Only Yesterday

red and white chevy

Only yesterday. Matsuo Basho did not do much thinking back. I wonder why.

a ’57 Chevy
purple and tan, I wish it were red.
a summer’s day

School’s out, the sun is hot,
counting cows, license plates from other states,
a book served as the internet.

A loaf of bread,
bologna, cheese, mustard and a pickle
Mom made lunch for us,

Ah, the Good old days,
hearty laughter, wind and dust,
as I remember it.

[A rough draft, but you know how these things are. The road stretches out, it keeps calling. When will we ever go back. ‘Tis true tis sad. How Dao. Tis true.]

Impermanence is swift

dead cicada skin on tree

In the summer of 1690, Matsuo Basho was 56 years old, staying at the “Unreal Hut” (幻獣庵 Genju-an) beside Lake Biwa near Otsu. He had just completed his long journey that one day would day become, “Oku no Hosomichi” (Journey to the Far North).

all that I see will soon die,
but one finds no sign
in the voice of the cicada
.
やがて死ぬ けしきは見えず 蝉の声
Yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe
Matsuo Basho, Summer of 1690

Basho added this note to the haiku, “無常迅速.”

Impermanence is swift
無常迅速
Mujōjinsoku

An English equivalent, “Here today, gone tomorrow.” Like a cicada, adopt a devil-may-care attitude, don’t worry.

This phrase often appears as 生死事大 無常迅速, (Shōshijidai Mujōjinsoku) meaning living and dying are matters of importance, impermanence is swift.

An English equivalent, “Make the most of your life.”

Note. Those noisy cicadas 蝉 are a bane to those who love silence, but a treat for hungry birds. Patience, dear friend, most of them are gone by the middle of July.

Speak

As you like it:

When the frog meets the pond, when you speak,
Whether you whisper or shout, it’s
— the sound of existence.

— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

Whether you whisper or shout,
When you speak, like the frog and the pond, it’s
— the sound of existence.
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

To write, to be, or not to be, one must write to be.

Fragile as dew on a blade of grass,
Heavy as a stone tossed in a lake,
To be heard one must speak
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

Exploring Yamaguta

kayaking on still waters


I Wish it Would Rain
May 2026

Here in Middle America on the Great Plains, the rains fall sporadically. A farmer who plants his crops prays for rain. And the nearby Arkansas River is not so mighty as the Mogami River in faraway mountainous Yamaguta in central Japan.

The Temple of Yamadera (Risshaku-ji) was where Matsuo Basho stayed for a week on his Journey into Japan’s Northern Exterior. Here, Basho composed one of his most famous haiku.

閑さや岩にしみ入る蝉の声
Shizukasa ya / iwa ni shimiiru / semi no koe

An eerie silence
Deep within these massive rocks,
A cicada’s speaks.

One might argue that it is not that the cicada speaks. A cicada doesn’t speak it cries. Basho’s word choice is “voice.” Its sound seeps into or penetrates the stone — cicada and stone becoming one.

It seems the rain delayed his trip, or perhaps it was the beauty of the area. For the following week Basho climbed Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan and Mount Yudono, the Three Mountains of Dewa, holy to Japan’s Shinto religion.

Another momentous moment was Basho’s leaving Yamadera and his trip down the raging Mogami River, headed to Japan’s western shores.

五月雨をあつめて早し最上川
Samidare o / atsumete hayashi / Mogami-gawa

Gathering rains of May,
Swift and fierce it flows
— the Mogami River

I have taken kayak and canoe down raging creeks and overflowing rivers in Kansas, but I don’t recommend it to the faint of heart.

Better wait for better weather. Better paddle lakes or ponds.

Morning has broken

sunrise over a field -abstract

Morning has broken, five syllables, the beginning of a song by Cat Stevens. Inspiration for a series of haiku. For you. As I sit here at my window, facing east, gazing in the distance, as the sky turns black to blue, then to bright yellow and back to blue.

It’s a new dawn…

1
Quietly I sit
at my window facing east …
the world awakens.

2
A Carolina wren
sings briefly in the dark..
silence takes its place.

3
Night has lost its grip,
black dissolves into pale blue,
soft yellow, bright light.

4
Every color
coming between night and day
the day is becoming.

5
Sun rising slowly,
blinding white for a brief moment
again turning blue.

6
No doubt: I am here,
loving this tender moment
yet it will not last.

7
My dog comes running,
the peace and quiet is undone —
wanting to go out.

8
Yes, I am leaving,
I am forever leaving
but will I come back?

— Bashō no yōna, May 2026

sunrise over a field -abstract

ayamegusa

purple iris

Basho’s Diary,
Sendai,
May 4th to 8th,
16th year of Genroku

Crossing the Natori River, we entered Sendai on the day when the irises were in full bloom. We found a place to stay and stayed four or five days. An artist by the name of Kaemon lived here. A man of some ability with whom I became acquainted. We toured together for a day. The clover in Miyagino was lush, the air was misty. Tamada, Yokono, and Tsujigaoka were white with rhododendrons. We entered a grove of pine trees called “under the tree.” It was because the dew was so thick in the past that it was called “Misaburahimikasa.” This meant to say, “Servants, present your master a hat.” The dew underneath the tree is wetter than the rain. Before the day ended, we visited the Yakushido and Tenjin shrines.

In parting, he gave me two paintings of Matsushima and Shiogama and a pair of straw sandals woven with Iris grass. How a man of refined taste is thoughtful.

Iris grass —
tied to the feet
the straps of straw sandals.

Iris —
Blossoming
On my feet?

あやめ艸足に結ん草鞋の緒
ayamegusa ashi ni musuban waraji no o

ayamegusa (あやめ艸), a combination of ayame, meaning iris, and gusa (Chinese, cao) meaning grass. In a medical and spiritual context, a medicinal herb with a fragrant smelling root that is said to ward off evil spirits. A way of saying “bon voyage.”

Sendai, a seaport on Japan’s eastern coast. At this point Basho headed into the interior crossing over to the west coast, a little less than half way through his journey on what would become Oku no Hosomichi.

Matsushima and Shiogama, two places on the coast that Basho visited. Matsushima is known for its pines. Matsuo Basho would surely have seen the connection with his own name, Matsuo.

Miyagino is the name of a god, but apparently also a suburb of Sendai.

As a travel guide, Basho gives us very little to no information about the two Buddhist shrines he visited.

Several English translations Basho’s journey exist. Here is one.