I’ve always been interested in poetry, but struggled with the more cloying European traditional styles. Courtesy of the internet I find that as usual, someone has been there before me and now I can find some space to call my own under the wing of haibun. According to Ray Rasmussen, haibun “is poetic prose coupled with haiku poetry about both everyday and extraordinary experiences of the people who write haibun”.
The well-known haiku writer, Basho, wrote haibun journals about his travels, exploring both the countryside and poetic style. Today writers (haijin) still invoke Basho’s style, while mapping the psychological geography of their everyday experiences in urban and rural environments.
Late winter, early spring. Walking through the Botanical Gardens, in the sun. It always seems slightly strange to me because what other kind of gardens would they be? Sculpture Gardens, I suppose. Zoological Gardens. Kindergartens. Octopus’s Gardens (in the shade).
After what seems like a forever winter, no-one wants to be in the shade. We all want our place in the sun, with something substantial under our feet, a place to stand.
We work very hard, our heads in books and monitors and keyboards and cyberspace. We feel guilty about taking time off to simply go for a walk, to spend time with each other. After our forever winter, we have no tan at all. Faintly white.
The sea darkens;
the voices of the wild ducks
are faintly white.