What do we expect learn from this post?
Something every poet already knows. That Nature has much to teach us. And now for a haiku-like poem:
Winter rain; A mouse runs over the Koto. –Buson
Winter’s ghosts; Footsteps marking passing time,
Shadows make dark spaces in white snow. –JM
Snow is still piled up outside, though it is melting rapidly. IFO decided to get out beyond her home for the first time in several days to check out her neighborhood. Could she safely drive yet?
Returning home, she did research on individual stocks and the biotech industry, prepared a little something for her evening meal, and began to close up the house for the night. Looking out the kitchen window, she saw … her own footsteps!
It was a sort of out-of-body experience. Those footsteps represented the IFO of an hour ago. There was the evidence! Footsteps on the front door path represented not only IFO, but the feet of her milkman from days before. Footsteps on the sidewalk included the feet of her mail carrier putting mail in the box. What a weird sensation.
She recalled her walk. There had been one set of HUGE boots clearly marked on a nearly undisturbed sidewalk. The footprint was two inches longer than hers. She tried to build up from those prints to see the man making them, but her imagination failed her. He remained a ghost.
This morning, she revisited the kitchen window to see her footsteps again, now representing the IFO of yesterday. Since the weather has warmed past freezing, the snow is evaporating. The edges of the footprints had softened and melted a bit. Her past was melting away. What a strange sensation.
How did these footsteps appear? She had wanted to avoid slipping on the ice left after freezing temperatures had solidified the moisture on the sidewalks, so she walked out on her driveway. Or where she thought the driveway might be under its snowy blanket.
She did her usual circuit down the country road that is in the process of becoming a busy street, and up a less-traveled neighborhood street. Every portion of the walk was different – piles of slush in the middle of the road, trampled snow on the sidewalks except where she had swept, and more snow on less-traveled streets and sidewalks.
It was getting dark and the quiet reminded her of her previous country living. Practically no one was out – only dog owners who HAD to go out with their pets for some ‘relief.’ This was where she noticed and reflected on those big footprints.Let us close with some other haiku from Buson:
In seasonal rain
along a nameless river
fear too has no name
And because Spring is just around the corner, he has this to say:
Pure white plum blossoms
slowly begin to turn
the color of dawn