The Antlers of the Season

On a recent trip to Nara Park, I noticed the antlers on the deer are looking a lot bigger. Yesterday, I started working at the school where I spend most of my time again. I'd last been there in April and, since then, the third year students had graduated and everyone else moved up a grade. I can't believe how much the little first years have grown now that they're second years.

Mostly this week I've been working with third year students, though, and I was happy to see many of these former second year students, too. We played a game to-day to help them learn present and past participle adjectives. One teacher had come up with some "Who am I?" cards--the teacher reads three hints on the cards and then students have to guess who the teacher is. He asked me to make some additional cards that were more fun than what he had, which he could count on me doing because I know plenty about Kimetsu no Yaiba. One thing that's definitely not changed from last year is Kimetsu no Yaiba is the bible for these kids. All the cards I made ended up being much too easy.

I was struck by the subtle reverence the students exhibited when the answer to one card was Rengoku Kyojuro. It's easy to see why he would be an icon to students--the hero of the Kimetsu no Yaiba movie worked and trained all his life, respected his family and honoured his mother's wishes, and still he failed. With all the work these kids have to do, the pressure they're under and all the tests they have to pass, it's no wonder they'd sympathise with someone like Kyojuro. Though when I saw the Kimetsu no Yaiba movie, Kyojuro reminded me of Kyuzo in Seven Samurai. I sometimes wonder if Kyuzo was related to the psychological blow of Japan's loss in World War II. Now I wonder if Kimetsu no Yaiba is the latest iteration of the same story of sincere, rigorous effort rendered meaningless by a single, overwhelming catastrophe.

It's been hot and rainy here, it being the rainy season. Thus all the wild growth, the massive tide of green and flowers. It's nice to live somewhere with seasons.

Twitter Sonnet #1453

The giant wasn't big so people slept.
In dreams of rope the copper lantern falls.
In dusty flowers poison hearts are kept.
A sugar habit hardens sturdy walls.
A leather string connects the cows to years.
A ticking clock observes the frightened man.
The golden sun recalls a dearth of fears.
A chip of gold could scratch the iron pan.
The question cornered words across a sky.
Across a sea, the sentence fished for art.
The random seeds produced a myst'ry pie.
The brain absorbed an extra, senseless heart.
A steady rain encouraged second trips.
Encroaching sun in ocean coffee dips.