From the fractured haiku collection.
On the anniversary of Matsuo Bashō’s death,
November 28, 2025
partially puzzled,
and warily wondering
what Bashō would think…
The last line could be changed to say, “Would Bashō approve…” But sadly, he’s not here to say.
RIP: Matsuo Bashō, master of the haiku, who died surrounded by friends, November 28, 1694 (age 50 years), Osaka, Japan
Let us join Matsuo Basho in Edo. The year is 1683. Perhaps we are at Basho’s humble thatched cottage. More likely we are at the home of a friend as Basho’s haiku suggest he was not much of a cook. Perhaps it is late in the year, a holiday, a sumptuous feast, then desert.
After a meal
watch TV, then nap
— Thanksgiving
A meal is not complete until desert is served. A sweet rice cake called kusa mochi qwrapped in mugwort leaves.
Pale green, hey —
an ear protruding from
the kusa mochi cake.青ざしや草餅の穂に出でつらん
aozashi ya kusa mochi no ho ni ide tsuran
— Matsuo Basho, 1683, age 40
青ざし (aozashi), pale green, the color of young plants or new leaves.
や (ya), used to convey emphasis.
草餅 (kusa mochi), a sweet Japanese rice cake made with mugwort (yomogi) leaves, a tall green herb. The mugwort is a digestive aide. Basho suffered stomach problems for much of his life.
に (ni), meaning “on”; 穂 (ho), literally “ear” as in the protruding spikes of the mugwort stalk.
出でつらん (ide tsuran), something that has “emerged” or “come forth.”
In summer, Matsuo Basho’s frog is plopping in a pond, making all sorts of noise. Does the water speak? Let’s imagine Matsuo Basho’s frog in November when the pond is quiet.
Falling leaves drift down—
the old pond’s quiet and calm
the frog is sleeping
— Bashō no yōna, November 2025
Frogs overwinter underwater, buried in mud or resting on the pond bottom, if needed freezing their bodies solid.
Oz, Kansas
Late November, 2025
The opening verse of the anthology Sarumino 猿蓑, Monkey’s Raincoat (1691).
初しぐれ猿も小蓑をほしげ也
hatsu shigure saru mo komino o hoshige nari
the first winter rain —
the monkeys shiver and shake,
wanting straw raincoats.
— Matsuo Basho, Sarumino 猿蓑, Winter (November?) 1691
Late November
Here I sit, late in November, looking out the window at the falling leaves blowing in the cold wind. I am preparing for Thanksgiving knowing the weather will turn cold. How cold, the monkeys will know as they shake and shiver in the first freezing rain of the season …
Late in November. How late? Matsuo Basho died on November 28, 1694.
初しぐれ hatsu shigure means the first cold shower, the first winter rain of the season, most likely November.
Matsuo Bashō, the 17th-century Japanese haiku poet, didn’t directly write about Daoism. But he did dabble in Buddhism. And he traveled, one imagines, searching for the Way. He died, on November 28, 1694, on the way to the Grand Shrine in Ise, but got no further than Osaka. He was only 50.
Way beyond words, go —
All things arise from one source,
Travel and behold.
— The Dao, as One
Find your voice
Inspire others
— the Eighth Habit
Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Matsuo Basho and habits
It is a line from Stephen R, Covey’s book The Eighth Habit, From Effectiveness to Greatness, published in 2004. Covey could have taken a page from the life of Matsuo Basho who, in searching for his voice, went from child, to page, to student, to teacher, to traveler, to Master, and student again, then finally, a Legend.
It was the last in a series of books about 7 Habits. The seven habits being: be proactive, have a plan, prioritize, think positive to win, be empathetic, i.e. learn to listen to understand, then and only then, speak, synergize from strength to strength, finally energize and synthesize, create.
More succinctly: practice, practice, practice, practice how you practice, practice with others, practice together, practice alone, practice to win.
Lake Biwa at night
plucking the shamisen
the pounding hail
— Matsuo Basho, Fall, 1684
Lake Biwa / at night, the three string shamisen / sounding (like) the sound of hail
琵琶湖の / 夜や三味線の / 音あられ
Biwakō no / yo ya shamisen no / oto arare
Did he like it?
In the first year of the Jōkyō (1684), on the journey of Nozarashi Kiko, in Ogaki, near the waters of Lake Biwa, at a gathering at Nyogyō’s house, Nyogyō was invited to play a Japanese shamisen. (Background Source: Yamanashi-ken)
(Shamisen 三味線, a three string instrument that sounds something like a banjo.)
Rocky Mountain High. From the fractured haiku collection.
I did,
I do every damn day.
Do you?
At St Mary’s Glacier, off I-70, past Idaho Springs, five miles or so up Fall River Road, at 10.000 feet and climbing. The doing is going somewhere new.
October 2025
Shigure!
be it rain or drizzle,
it’s bordering on freezing.
— Bashō no yōna, September 2025
In late autumn of the second year of Genroku, September 1690, Basho’s disciples (蕉門 shomon) gathered at an inn or tea house (亭 te) in Iga Ueno. As everyone waited for the hot tea, they shuffled their feet and rubbed their hands in the chilly inn, Basho remarked:
to everyone and even the inn,
the Autumn drizzle
is freezing人々を . しぐれよ宿は . 寒くとも
Hitobito wo . Shigureyo yado wa . Samuku tomo
— Matsuo Basho, September 1690
Note. Basho had been gone from Edo now for a year. He had completed the long journey into the northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi) in the summer of 1689. He was now spending time traveling around editing his magnum opus, which would not be published until after his death.
Haiku’d, not quite 5-7-5.
.
I know I’m not great,
Counting syllables is totally wrong,
Cause I can’t count
.
Who knew
Haiku could be
Addictive?
.
What will it take
To break
This habit?
matsuo-basho-haiku 