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Saturday, March 21, 2015

Shadows Have Crept In



Just a word for those who have seen this site before. (And those who haven't). I started this blog very soon after I started this walk on Yerry Hill Road. Ten years ago? Twelve? After about a year I thought that photographs would intertwine with the haiku and have been adding photos of this walk together with the haiku. 

The ancient Japanese haiku masters did not use photographs to illustrate their haiku. I know that,  but still love adding this dimension. After all, we live in the 21st century not the 17th century of Matsuo Basho, the icon of haiku.  And I have been resistant to rules since I was three (or two?). And poetry has so many rules that are made to be broken. 

Nevertheless, I have strictly followed  the haiku rule of five syllables in the first line, seven syllables in the second line and five syllables in the third. I do think that poetic structure has meaning. (I mean, can you imagine a Shakespearean sonnet written in the form of a limerick? )

So I plug along with my haiku and my photographs. And I become more proficient in both media. 

Today, I set out on my walk with my Leica DLux6 (my second right hand). I knew the pictures were repetitive, unexciting, and somewhat strained. But, still. 
I came back and dutifully began the process of downloading them from the my Leica to my desktop site and then formatting the SD when the files were downloaded. What happened is that the pictures disappeared into nowhere. And I was left with my naked haiku.
Funny thing is that my distress about this lasted less than half a minute. Here is a chance to present my haiku without digital accompaniment. A good opportunity. In fact, I am thinking that, perhaps, ever other day, or twice a week, I would do this regularly. Just thinking. Enjoy!



I have erased them:
All the photo's from this walk.
(Doesn't matter much.)









 Second day of Spring;
The icicles are dripping.
First chickadee eats.









Shadows on the snow--
There's a lightness in the air.
Ice keeps on dripping.








Forsythia bud
Looks like it holds a secret--
Of life or of death?









Rooster is crowing;
He's been quiet all winter
(Or just out of sound).









Shadows of the rocks
Lie still under the water
Of the running stream.








Caught by their neighbors,
Fallen trees hang supported
Above snowy woods.











New dog on the block:
Roto barking up a storm;
(Will get used to me.)











Now the road is gray;
No shadows are to be seen--
The clouds have crept in.











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