Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Morning Light at Pond Hill
the moon rises
I'm not waiting for anything
of the house I was born in
it's good to be alone--
the wild grasses
These haiku are quiet and often sad, I reccomend them.
Santoka lived from 1882-1940. Times were very different then, but human life had many of the same qualities, dilemmas and problems.
And for some reason, this picture I took a few days ago reminded me of this fragment of verse that is hundreds of years old.
Up and down the meadow where the sheep graze echo,
fadingly as afterthoughts, the cries of quail.
SATYRUS, 2nd century C.E.
in the translation by Brooks Haxton
May the meadows where you live be evergreen or snow-covered, or filled with wildflowers or lashed with rain, each in their season. And always, alive with birds.
at 7:24 PM