I stand on the deck to keep Diesel company while he performs his outdoor rituals. In the sun the air is just above freezing—almost warm. I am there with slippers on, my usual busyness on pause. At this moment there will be no running out to fill the bird feeder or shovel snow away from the wooden steps.
only the dog
rolling on the hard snow
a bluejay cries
.
.
©️2019 Ontheland
Prompted by Frank Tassone’s November with Basho, Day 4:
Set out to see the Murder Stone, Sessho-seki, on a borrowed horse, and the man leading it asked for a poem. “Something beautiful, please.”
The horse turns his head–
from across the wide plain,
a cuckoo’s cry
Basho, “Narrow Road to the Interior,” Translated by Sam Hamil, The Essential Basho, pg. 8-9
