Winter Wind

A cold wind blows, it snows and snows. Winter, 1690, Genroku, 3rd year. Matsuo Basho had completed the long journey, that would one day become known as Oku no Hosomichi, but he had not yet returned to Edo. The end is near.

Ah, the bitter winter wind,
my face, my swollen cheeks
are painful

こがらしや .　頬腫痛む .　人の顔
Kogarashi ya . hoobare itamu . hito no kao
— Matsuo Basho, Winter 1690


The order of the haiku was reversed to make sense. Hito no kao, the human face. Hoobare itamu, swollen cheeks are painful. Some pundits suggest that there was a mumps epidemic. I suggest, as anyone would know, who walks in the bitter wind, the cheeks were simply red and puffy.

A winter’s journey on horseback, Hiroshige, source Wikipedia

One wonders

In January the says are becoming longer and the weather colder.

One wonders what Basho would have done if he’d lived 20 more years. For he was only 50 when he died and that is quite young. Would he have refined the haiku further, would he have broken more rules?

One in his fifties

Is just beginning

To figure things out

.

One in his sixties

Is getting

Nearer and nearer

.

Near and nearer

But never quite there

— asymptote

.

Those in their seventies

Have completely forgotten

What life is about …

.

One wonders

One wanders

Becoming completely lost

What is Haiku

snowy trail

“Haiku is a form of Zen.” — R. H. Blyth

Let’s not be wordy,
Precise, concise, shades of truth
Wisdom with few words

Ah — a verbal act
by defying convention
gets right to the point

A verbal act —
Frost, clinging to red roses —
Disappears like dew.

— Bashō no yōna, January 2026

Haiku draws on memory. It condenses and colors. It takes a scene and gives it meaning beyond its mere description. The last haiku was inspired by a red rose that still clung to a branch along Clear Creek in Golden, Colorado in December, 2025. I had just finished a three mile run up and back Clear Creek Trail. There was ice at the edge of the creek, but in the middle of the creek the water flowed smoothly and clear, like the name of the creek. The rose at the end of the run was like a medal, but one that would not last.

And, as my daughter say, you don’t always need to take a picture. Enjoy the moment. Remember it as a haiku and make it last.

Speaking of children. I was telling my son that one should write every day. Not only that but put it out for there where the world can take pot shots at it. Practice and feedback, it is how we get better. Contact, resistance, and repetition.

Practice and feedback
One gets better and better,
— a flint getting sharp.

Sake Anyone?

New Year’s Eve,
from dusk til dawn,
Sake anyone?
— Bashō no yōna, 2025

Eat drink and be merry, but there is hell to pay for a little buzz.

Like floating flowers
My sake is white,
My rice is black
花にうき世我が酒白く飯黒し
hana ni ukiyo waga sake shiroku meshi kuroshi
.
Cherry blossoms falling
Sneaking sips of sake
Behind a fan
扇にて酒くむ陰や散る桜
ōgi nite sake kumu kage ya chiru sakura
.
After drinking the sake
The bottle becomes
A flower vase
呑明て花生となる二升樽
nomi akete hana-ike ni sen nishoodaru
.
May swallows dance
but let not mud drop
in my sake cup
盃に泥な落しそ舞ふ燕
盃に泥な落しそ 村ツバメ
sakazuki ni doro na otoshi so muratsubame
.
when I drink sake
no longer can I sleep
this snowy night
酒飲めばいとど寝られぬ夜の雪
sake nomeba itodo nerarenu yoru no yuki
— Matsuo Basho, sake haiku

I confess to liking the last haiku the best. Or maybe it is just that it resonates with me.

The more we drink, the less we sleep
nomeba itodo nerarenu

sake, the more one drinks, the less one sleeps

At the Gym

Late in December at the gym, jogging around the track, trying to remember that one I was young.

I have outlived Matsuo Basho now for quite a few years. Eating well, lifting weights, writing poetry is my secret to success.

One is lifting weights

Grunting, barely holding on

Sadly, getting older

.

Those who are younger

Daily are getting stronger

And looking better

.

The weight of the world

Grows and grows all the time

Troubling one’s mind

.

Like Sisyphus one keeps at it. Like Basho one wanders from time to time.

Somebody farted

Variations on a fart by a smart feller. things not said in polite company.

Somebody farted,

Was it wind or a whisper?

Friends soon departed

.

Somebody farted

Hearing a sigh feeling a breeze ,

The room held its breath

.

Somebody farted

A cloud of mystery lingered

As I departed

.

Matsuo Basho ate radishes both because they were plentiful and because he had stomach problems for most of his life. No doubt he passed gas in polite company, but it was never mentioned.