Saturday, July 13, 2013

My Golden Baby Sister at the beach

I am still working with the slides taken by my mother from 1953-1970s. This was cropped from one of the earlier ones, maybe from the summer of 1954. The light is just about perfection, and the wet sand the perfect background color for the child's coloring. There is even some motion, as she digs in the sand. Mom had a good eye.

Because of the beautiful, tender simplicity of this picture, tonight I have selected some of the haiku of Hosai Ozaki, which Hiroaki Sato translates to be printed on one line. Each line is a separate poem, complete in itself. They are from the one of my favorite books:
Right Under the Big Sky, I Don't Wear a Hat, Stonebridge Press, 1993. Hiroaki Sato has dedicated the book to the poet John Ashbery. Surprises abound on printed pages! Pick up a book at random and look!

Having become a pickle tub weight, smug, a hunk of gravestone

My long-time-no-see face is reflected in the pond I've come to

A spider has caught a dragonfly under the eaves I'm living

Letting a lot of frogs croak I turn off the lamp and go to sleep

I ended up lending my only umbrella

Lake houses in a row, catching small fish, their life

The nail I missed cocked its head

With a face saying I caught something, a child came out of the bush

I go in and out of the back wooden gate, morning glories turn into seeds

The letter I'm writing lying down is peeked in a by a chicken

I walk with children, at our feet waves roll

I hope you can get to the beach this summer, if you want to! Sleep well tonight.

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