“Risshū“
The grass in the garden and the asphalt on the road still hold the heat of the day. Even as the sun begins to sink, the air remains heavy.
A short walk is enough to bring out a sweat. Even when the wind stirs, it is not yet cool.
It has been another hot summer.
How many times have we thought,
I wish it would cool down soon.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, a higurashi begins to sing.
Kana-kana-kana…
And once again.
Kana-kana-kana…
Hearing that voice, one cannot help but think,
Summer has passed its peak.
And in that moment, even the heat we had wished would go away begins to feel a little hard to let go.
It is a curious thing.
We had been waiting for cooler winds, and yet, when the first hint of them finally arrives, we find ourselves wishing things might stay this way just a little longer.
The higurashi continues to sing in the distance.
Kana-kana-kana…
The sudden evening showers, the voices of cicadas, the warm, sweat-dampened evenings, the skies that stayed light until late—
together with the heat, they are all slowly moving farther away.
A breeze passes through the grass in the garden.
Something in it has changed, ever so slightly.
It is still hot.
And yet
summer has already begun to pack for its departure.
What remains is a sadness, like the feeling after watching someone leave.
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