Who knew
I could haiku
did you?
.
If I could haiku,
and that’s saying a lot,
could you haiku too?
— Bashō no yōna
Who knew
I could haiku
did you?
.
If I could haiku,
and that’s saying a lot,
could you haiku too?
— Bashō no yōna
Every story,
if good, has a little lie
to tell the whole truth.
Bashō might have understood that better than most.
Consider Bashō’s most famous frog haiku:
古池や
蛙飛びこむ
水の音
Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
The old pond lies still,
a frog jumps in — kersplash!
the sound of water.
September 2026
In my garden in the midst of three months of unbearable heat, I sit in the shade of the wisteria and watch honeybees gather on dozens of sunflower blossoms.
One tries to enjoy the moment, but finds the temptation to write a haiku overwhelming.
And eventually foolish.
.
Shadow and light
A sunflower and a bee
The breeze makes them dance
.
Dozens of blossoms
a September gathering
Sunflowers and bees
.
Bumblebees survive
six weeks of golden Summer
better be busy
.
Honeybees cluster all winter
shivering to generate heat
eating stored honey.
.
One learns Nature is not perfect, but it tries and so do I.
Chimaki 粽, three syllables, chee (like cheese) -ma -key.
making Chimaki
one hand to pinch and to tuck
— hair on her forehead
preparing rice cakes
one hand making chimaki
the other her hair
粽ゆう 片手にはさむ 額髪
Chimaki yū / katate ni hasamu / hitaigami
When Ordinary is Extraordinary
The beauty of the haiku lies in the ambiguity of the movement. The woman making chimaki must do two things with one hand. How does she hold the bamboo leaves, wrap them around the mochi, tie the string, and remove the strand of hair that has fallen in front of her eyes?
粽ゆうchimaki yū — wrapping the bamboo around glutinous rice, holding it tightly with your fingers, while using the other hand, tying it with string.
Basho’s disciple, Bashō no yōna, is going to Tokyo in November, hoping there to find such a woman tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she prepares chimaki. Chimaki (粽), the disciple is told is a leaf-wrapped rice dumpling. Picture Cynthia Erivo playing Elphaba in Wicked with long green fingers, tied with bamboo strings.
Where to Wander
Where shall I wander to find chimaki?
Yanaka perhaps with its old residential streets and more traditional atmosphere. Head north of the city center, passsing through Ueno Park. Recommended is Hachidaime Denzaemon Meshiya, a small, traditional teishoku restaurant serving ordinary Japanese set meals.
Asakusa also. Head east of Yanaka, two to three miles towards Sumida River. Mizuguchi is an old-fashioned shokudō—the sort of place with uncomplicated Japanese dishes.
What do I Look For
食堂 — shokudō, meaning “diner,” look for a sliding door, a noren, a short curtain, with Japanese characters in the panels – 食堂 plus two others. Watch the Netflix series Midnight Diner, and you’ll get a feel for a shokudō run by a Master.
Better not to look, just wander, and stumble across someplace out of the ordinary.

何事もほどほどに――「ほどほど」にすることさえも。
Nanigoto mo hodohodo ni — “hodohodo” ni suru koto sae mo.
hodohodo — not one, just enough, not too much
“Everything in moderation—even moderation itself.”
Asking Matsuo Basho, he replies:
閑さや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声
Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe
Absolute calm, when —
one cry of the cicada
sinks into the rocks.
時には
一
十分です
Tokiniha ichi jūbundesu.
Sometimes,
one
is enough.
August 2026
Basho’s disciple is at the lake which is perfect.

Basho’s disciple who is planning a trip to Japan in November is giving himself some advice and hoping he takes it.
One Bashō-like addition:
11. Leave room for what you did not expect.
Surprise is the act of creation.
For the best moments on the Way are often the ones no guidebook could have planned for.
Friday, July 31, 2026
Walking to the corner bookstore in 100 degree weather… composing haiku.
Five-Seven-Five
Five-Seven-Five
I wish I knew why – Haiku
Makes no sense at all
Sipping hot coffee
In the middle of summer
Makes no sense at all
Ladies in bookstores
Well read, and so attractive
Often wear glasses
Forgive me if this is not PC — author’s confession
Summer Cicadas
When the sun rises, Summer cicadas are mechanical, persistent, inescapable, until the sun sets.
Like an alarm clock,
Try as I might, I can’t stop.
— Cicadas crying
To Matsuo Bashō the voice of a cicada is quite profound.
静けさや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声
Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe
Ah, such stillness—
The sound of a cicada
sinks into the rocks.
To be a bee, yes
One must wish upon a star
To be a bee, no less
.
Why choose to be a bee
Why not something else —
A butterfly perhaps?

I am in a funk
I thought I could — haiku
No I can’t, can you?
…
When Zen was new,
Who knew
— Haiku?
…
When Zen was new
A frog jumped
And made a Splash
…
An empty cup,
no bread, no wine,
you split