Kigo–Season Word

At a haiku conference for five days, and then slept upwards of twelve hours. This morning, it seems the season has changed without my noticing it. Our easy going house guest has gone, and instead numerous daddy long legs fill the corners of the room. All of the pots of mums have suddenly dried and died–I bought them past their peak to impress visitors that the garden was still blooming when it really wasn’t. Other spiders cluster, and something–predator or prey–leaves a tiny red smear on the wall.

I don’t think
just one word
can describe this

Haibun by Bill Waters

Turtlesong
 
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
                        —from “The Song of Solomon”
 
When I was a child, I yearned to hear the voice of the turtle. Would it warble like a miniature French horn? Would it growl like a tiny tuba?
 
My mother, who knew something of the Bible, told me the turtle of the poem is actually a turtledove, yet still I wondered whether turtles — always silent (in my presence, at least) — ever make a sound.
 
daybreak by the pond . . .
listening
listening

Taking a Walk with Issa by Hannah Mahoney

Taking a Walk with Issa

When I drop by his hut,
Issa is sitting outside on a bench,
his eyes closed to the early sun.

He offers me tea.
I’ve brought plums. We bite into them
and slurp the juice. He laughs.

We head off down the hill,
the grass a delicate green,
soft against our shins.

Ah! he cries, and crouches.
A snail is climbing a rock,
stretching its horns to find its way.

As we continue across the meadow,
grasshoppers arc away
at our approach. We clap

and do a little grasshopper dance.
That’s how it is with Issa.
He has brought some sweet potato

for the bent-backed horse;
we join the cow as she watches
a butterfly’s flight.

On the way back,
we stop at the cemetery,
under the pines.

I once told him
of the expression
“getting over” grief.

He shook his head,
picked up a small smooth stone,
and tucked it into his pouch.