winter . . .
a day of fog and melting snow . . . in the woods a silvered silence . . . the yellow flags of leaves still waving . . . tree trunks like candles reaching into the aether . . . in a time long before this one the haiku master issa saw this and wrote . . .
"i see them now . . . how they were ... bare winter trees"
closer to the ground . . . the tall grasses of summer bow down under the weight of the winter snows . . .
inside a similar moment the japanese haiku master ikkyu wrote . . .
"the world before my eyes is wan and wasted, just like me. the earth is decrepit, the sky stormy, all the grass withered. no spring breeze even at this late date, just winter clouds swallowing up my tiny reed hut."
issa wrote . . . "the mountain hermit's fire is rising... winter rain. "
yard and garden notes
15 hours ago