is light and as short as haiku.
When the rain stops, the blossoms fall
in artistic patterns on the ladies’ umbrellas
through air, rain and cherry blossom scented.
Closing my eyes, I record the image.
Kawase Hasui, Spring Rain in Ueno Park, 1930
The cloudy afternoon through the red maple –
painted leaves, inked branches, white paper sky.
This could be a haiku about spring
here seven thousand miles away from Osaka
where every line counts as seven beats.
This morning begins silently with little light –
like a river at its mountain source,
just a pool of water flowing downhill –
gathering its kind in increasing potential energy.
A raindrop, seed, a newborn in spring.
The title of this poem is an aphorism by William Stafford. more info
