Early off

Winter has never been my season. In the order of Like, it’s springsummerfall, any weather, winter. The cold requires too many layers of cloth, natural and now man-made, both Western and Oriental (think: hara-maki).For males, mostly, there is the additional protection of facial hair. A full beard does add necessary and efficient protection against lower temperatures. (We can also store morsels there for snacks later.) But, alas, it does itch when the air temp gets higher. So, from about these days, the hairs begin to fall off, area-by-area. My new avatar shows Offness in two respects, the most important being the missing chin stuff. As April proceeds into Hot, the moustache will drop and I will upload a close view of my upper lip, perhaps. To celebrate this:

birds redo plumage,

cats shed everywhere,

bare chins view spring anew.

This year my cherry blossom viewing will be of the Japanese variety, but on the Potomac, not the Kamo. No singing and drinking parties beneath the boughs, either. If there were, the highest murder rate would only grow higher. Ducking drunken tunes is better than ducking sniper fire, true, but a job is a job, so off I go momentarily.

spring blossoms’ faint smell

mixed with gun smoke -

New World blend’s not a poem.

still waiting for spring

eyes

open

another hangover

—

the frost on the window

the sound of the river

Diary: Dec, 07 - Mar, 08

Dec, 07: Pokhara, Nepal.

under the shade of pipal

the ballad, “Lakshimi phiri-ri…” –

the long stone-step path to the Himalayas

Jan, 08: Takatsuki, Osaka.

crows’ cries in the dusk cedar clump  a snowdrift below

Feb, 08: Okuma, Okinawa.

beach umbrella folded up under sunshine – north wind

Mar, 08: Shisendo Temple, Kyoto.

36 ancient Chinese poets

look down suspiciously on  poets

sketching the garden

swans at wintersend

fat webfeet crunching

through March snow …

eyes tighten as a gale

whips in the thistles

Amanohashidate Redux

last november a few members of the hailstone haiku circle took a weekend trip to amanohashidate. though i was unable to join them, i reminisced, in spiritual companionship, about the experiences i had when i visited this place, which is thought to be one of the top three scenic views in japan. a clunky train got me there.

the sky darkensー

deep snow

in the mountainside cemetery

after a short walk to get a preliminary feel of the atmosphere i found a cozy room at a ryokan, ate dinner, drank lots of warm sake.

rotenburo for twoー

talk of the distance

between the stars

the next day i began my exploration…

new crutches

for a towering pineー

the bridge to heaven

Winter visitations

Two days ago, I returned to Kyoto from New Zealand. Suddenly, the sultry southern-hemispheric days have been replaced with an insidious chill that I only notice when I set out on my bike to replenish my larder, and decide it is too late to return for a pair of gloves.

Someone has been using my house while I’ve been away, and although they have made an effort to remove the traces of their presence, my house as it was five weeks ago remains like a snapshot in my head, and I notice with a start where the lamp has been unplugged, the sofa moved back, a curtain caught in the sliding window. And in the garden there are traces of another visitation:

returning to my Kyoto garden

long stalks bowed to the hard ground

the long-gone snow

Dedication

Thinking of millennia

Of unknown poets …

Hail comes

Tinkling down.

(Tito)

 

幾千年の　無名詩人に…　りんりんと降り来る　玉霰

ティート－

Continuing with Shiki

筆に声あり霰の竹を打つ如し 　(正岡子規)

In the pen, there is a voice:

It sounds like hailstones

Striking the bamboos.

(Masaoka Shiki)

Beginning with Basho

 

石山の石にたばしる霰哉　　芭蕉

 

Scattering

Across the rocks of Rock Mountain …

Hailstones

(Matsuo Basho)