“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.