first read, i was minded of basho’s “a frog plunges into the sound of water”
second read, basho’s “nothing in the cry of cicadas suggest they are about to die” placed me on a rooftop. being flat, pools form after most rains. this occasion, i watched in silence as tadpoles swam to-and-fro; not knowing the water’s rapid evaporation…
Lady Judith,
your request humbled me; your words served as the medium.
i thank you.
coming to mind, many “following in the masters’ footsteps, rather than seeking what they sought”, (a variation of what i read somewhere).
judith, enjoy
–
ancient black frog
in this pool of fresh tears–
the silenced plop
Resonant, in every sense of the word.
stones
in tides eternal wave
a sermon
I have been reading and re-reading this haiku, and it has certainly grown on me.
It’s certainly one for a collection or anthology, as it can be read so many times without tiring of it.
first read, i was minded of basho’s “a frog plunges into the sound of water”
second read, basho’s “nothing in the cry of cicadas suggest they are about to die” placed me on a rooftop. being flat, pools form after most rains. this occasion, i watched in silence as tadpoles swam to-and-fro; not knowing the water’s rapid evaporation…
our power of observation, staggering at times
I know this Brett. I felt the tug as I read it. Captured perfectly. Thank you. Michele
Brett, the sound of water rippling among the stones is a part of my life. What a lovely haiku!
b.m. richardson . . . your tadpole story made me feel so sad. could you put it into haiku?
I love the feeling of sound-in-motion…
and the visual is strong.
Lady Judith,
your request humbled me; your words served as the medium.
i thank you.
coming to mind, many “following in the masters’ footsteps, rather than seeking what they sought”, (a variation of what i read somewhere).
judith, enjoy
–
ancient black frog
in this pool of fresh tears–
the silenced plop