From the Fishouse

Startled by Summer

in the original Chinese

The klaxon warns of the first typhoon,
and I think
how last night’s booming
thunder was already too late for spring.

The fog outside the shutter
no longer hurries us into jackets
and we suddenly discover
it’s ok to go out in short sleeves.

However,
the one thing I can’t remember:
this moment last year
was it the frog’s
or the cicada’s song
that sprung me from my spring dreams.