Did you ever want to be happy and grow up to be it?
Oh, yes, like so much of Texas when there are no rains. I hope you don't mind, Cynthia, but your haiku reminded me of a poem I wrote once for an exercise in a poetry journal (based in Texas). Here it is:False PromisesStorm clouds gather again tonightas they have each night for a week.The bleak wheat ripples alongas the edge of the front tousles its headsand approaches the west side of town.Our trees awaken from their sullen napand wave to welcome the breezeand another chance for a thunderclap.But again, it's only a tease--A few drops fall, leaving dark tearsin the chalky earth, not nearly enoughto deter the dust devils from dancingacross the fallow field to leer at us,and taunt, "We fooled you again!"Those dervishes swirl away to the east,leading the way for the dark cloudswhich also soon are out of sight.We watch with resignation from the porch,cooler than inside, until the nightfalls, all color in the sky bledfrom the sunset, a thick dusty red.Tomorrow will be hot and dry again.
Feel free to critique the poetry. I employ a sophisticated thick hide technology.