My home is St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. It is the northern most river port on the Mississippi River, known by the native Americans as the “Father of Waters”.
From the late 19th century on, the city became an important transportation hub for the central US, where food and mineral commodities were moved via river barge and railroad, beginning their journey to all parts of the world.
With modern expansion, the city is not so grand as it once may have been. Now, maybe, just another boring little town in the midwest-flyover land.
Thank you, Willie, for this haiku, & for these thoughts.
I’ve crossed your Mississippi a few times, though nowhere near as far north as St. Paul. (I hail from South Carolina & drove cross county from there.) In solidarity w/ the Kyoto Hailstone/Minnesota connection, I leave you with “Big River,” made immortal by Johnny Cash. Nothing to do with the moon, but everything to do with “mooning.”
Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry,
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky.
And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you Big River.
Then I’m gonna sit right here until I die.
I met her accidentally in St. Paul, Minnesota.
And it tore me up every time I heard her drawl, Southern drawl.
Then I heard my dream was back downstream cavortin’ in Davenport,
And I followed you, Big River, when you called…….
Willie’s haiku is very fine. And the photo, Mark, so vivid. While you were watching the moon reflected in the weedy pond at Daikakuji, I was on the rooftop of a children’s bookshop over in Sakyo Ward with a plume or two of susuki grass and (sorry to mention this in front of a vegetarian) a whole tuna a friend had caught off an island in Amami gradually being dissected into vinegared rice. Someone had the idea of grilling the skin over a hibachi as an appetite-whetter to go with the crystal-clear sake. Couldn’t see the moon for the smoke and steam!
Takeshi’s tuna –
Its skin, burnt on the roof
Makes a ring
Around the moon