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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 2, June 2014

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Doug D’Elia
Syracuse, New York, USA


Wednesdays I Write Haiku

I imagine the steam erupting out of the teakettle as the mists of Mount Fuji. I bend my creaky knees to sit on a straw mat, breathing fully, between sips of green tea taken with ceremony and grace. In a black kimono, hands clasped in contemplation, I walk with awareness and intent gently through the garden.

I watch an earthworm creep its way through the lettuce, as slow and deliberate as a Buddhist monk on a leisurely, peaceful journey home, free of distraction, free of belongings, free to be. A worker bee visits a flower, then another, petitioning nectar by means of repetitive incantation, “The Queen has sent me.” I notice a dead butterfly in the dirt, which I save to fashion a quill for the end of my bamboo writing brush.

I listen to traditional Japanese music that inspires the moment. Then I prepare the ink and write haiku about getting old, about friendship and poetry. I find simplicity in haiku, a reverence for both the complexity and simplicity of nature, structure without structure, yin and yang.

The remainder of the week I will drive my car, work at my computer, talk on my cell phone, but not today. Today is Wednesday, and Wednesdays I write haiku.

friend, friend
our time together
as short as a haiku

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