Raindrops on berries
Ah, a bright sunlight morning
The world is refreshed
…
A shōshin (beginner’s mind): one notices a small thing, like a crystal clear raindrop hanging on an Elderberry, then lets it open like a passage into a whole world.
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
a rose
A Shakespeare sonnet (54), some Dorothy Parker (one perfect rose), a dash of Gertrude Stein (you know), a walk in the park (long, long ago).
a rose is a rose,
as it grows – it’s becoming
a love that is lost
Bashō no yōna, June 2026
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
Ignorance is bliss—
eyes closed, soon the storm passes
finally I sleep
.
March 2026
Told by my daughter that if one ignores reality, one stays in the dark. Me thinking, I am not one but many.
March 2026
Longboat Key, Sarasota
Days before the eaglets take flight, perched on a branch, taking it all in. The Branching phase last 9 to 10 weeks. After taking flight, the eaglets will be gone by May.
Eaglets,
waiting their turn
— beware, it’s a wild world
Winter’s not over. Not yet. But somewhere the crocus are blooming and the snow has gathered on the leaves of the daffodil and the narcissus, bending them down. Someone once told me that is how one knows Spring is soon coming.
初雪や
水仙の葉のたわ
むまで
Hatsuyuki ya
suisen no ha no tawa
mu made
First snow, last snow, let me know — with AI, is anybody thinking for one’s self? My English rendering of Matsuo Basho’s haiku that keeps the figurative meaning if not literally so.
first snow, new year—
just enough so its bending
the daffodil leaves— Matsuo Basho, 1686
Yes,, it is true that in Japanese, the word 水仙 (すいせん, suisen) can mean both daffodil and narcissus. I confess, I too am not sure of the difference and whether it matters.
初雪や / 水仙の葉のたわ / むまで
Early March 2026
Longboat Key, Sarasota
An eagle nest
high in a tree
on the lee side of the island
overlooking Sarasota Bay.
Two eaglets,
nearly grown,
almost ready to fly.
An Audubon lady
watches the chicks,
camera clicking away.
The parents are off feeding.
Soon one eagle returns
to keep watch.
Soon the day will come
when they teach them
to fish.
Such good parents.
.
Eagle —
keep watching.
Your chicks have not flown.
.
An eagle
keeps a sharp eye out,
wary of the world.
.
How is it
that birds get along
and we can’t?
.
Note
The birds I saw are Bald Eagle chicks. Along the bay they usually fledge (take their first flight) around March or early April, so my timing is spot on. After they fly, the parents still bring them fish for a few weeks while they learn to fish for themselves.
Then they are off on their own.
March 2026
Longboat Key, Sarasota
Mostly six syllable haiku.
A morning walk along the beach on Longboat Key in Sarasota, Florida, a gentle breeze, what it means to be all alone in a city 56,000 people.
Through the portal,
On the Beach
— Nevil Shute
Alice’s Looking Glass
“If I had a world
of my own,
everything
would be nonsense.
Nothing would be
what it is,
because everything
would be what it isn’t.
And contrary wise,
what is,
it wouldn’t be.
And what it wouldn’t be,
it would.
You see?”
Pretty shells.
The shore.
For free
.
If the ocean and the shore had a political theory, would it be Dao Dejing?
More political theory:
Gather, collect, conform.
We are prisoners, confined to the structures we create. Michel Foucault
Broken shelves,
Broken hearts,
Broken dreams.
.
What is a rebel, but a man who says no-Albert Camu. We shall return to this thought
All politics is local, says tip O’Neill. Federalism takes into account, the large in the small, the rural in the urban. This helps to avoid the tyranny of the majority.
The waves,
The foam,
Repeat.
.
In terms of texture, clam shells come in three varieties: spiky, ribbed, and smooth The color is very from white to black my favorite is the silvery iridescent shell that looks like pearl. Because these are so fragile, they are all almost always broken. Does part of their beauty lie in the fact that they uncommon? 
The birds,
Flapping,
Their wings
.
Seagulls,
Sandpiper,
And fools
.
How to describe a sand pepper:
Long beaks,
Long legs,
Small heads
.
Blue ocean,
so vast,
No wind
.
 me,
On the beach,
Alone 
Back through the portal.
“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” Camus
Or a man on the beach with no shoes 
It’s complicated
Fog lifts and settles again.
Patiently, one waits
.
Better yet,
One hopes
matsuo-basho-haiku 