Before the boats return from dry
dock’s winter-long sabbatical
the harbor soaks up early sun
without a passing sail of care
filling primeval emptiness
with deep subconscious images:
blue water, waves, white-caps, a floating bird,
and unseen creatures named without one word.
ON INTO WINTER
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I had thought to end the autumn season with Kigin’s “shape of the wind”
hokku, but a reader in Japan then sent me a new verse that seemed quite
appropriate...
2 weeks ago

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