spring’s rain

memories of lost years

left by a cloud

I searched for her … my mother …. I waited through lunch, but she did not visit today.   I sat, meditated, read a page or two.  Yet, the scattered crumbs of memory blew away in a whirlwind of restlessness. 

My grandmother did visit for a bit and left me wondering…am I like you?  Sensitive, irritable, exhausted.  As a child I was often overwhelmed by my own sensitivity to her presence…once I carried a long forgotten incident between us to my mother seeking resolution … comfort. I instead found,  “That is her way.” 

That is her way…

It seemed as though in her absence L was invited to visit as I remembered his poetry.  With a manual typewriter, his carefully composed words on white paper.  Where are those papers?

Where are the poems hand written on scraps of paper…recycled holiday cards…mailed over the years?  Poems written before the tremors silenced my mother’s hands…where are they?  One spoke to me of acceptance…how her walker was her friend. 

Slipped into books…as if they were flower blossoms?  Tucked away into little wooden boxes … as they are treasures?

Where are those books…the wooden boxes?  

Were they given away?  Did I cast them aside unknowing ….

“…each moment gives rise to the next, this is because that is. We do not exist in isolation; there is nothing that exist by itself alone.” (cited: Brother Phap Hai, Nothing to it.

On a pitch-dark

night road

I get lost

watching the moon

set behind the faraway mountain. Ryokan (cited: Trans. K Tanahashi, Sky Above, Great Wind)

Clouds drifting off:

the sight of

moonlit heavens ~Kizan (cited: Trans. Y. Hoffman, Japanese Death Poems)

Even more

because of being alone

the moon is a friend ~Buson (cited: Trans: Y Sawa & E M Shiffert, Haiku Master Buson)

This week’s lens-artists photo challenge is hosted by Tina (Travels and Trifles) who invites us to share some of those special moments that have taken our breath away.

be safe, be well, and be sage.

Dragonfly wings ... shining silken garments. Now my heart is aching. Who will give it rest?
Young Dragonfly wings ... rich embroidered garments. Now my heart is aching. Who will give it peace?
Dragonfly bursting its cocoon ... plain white linen garments. Now my hearts aching. Who will give it love?
~The Book of Songs (cited: Anonymous,The Jade Flute.  Project Gutenberg
departing tears…Nikon D750 f/3.2 1/4000s 40mm

Looking backward ... I cannot see the ancients of days.
Looking forward ... I cannot see ages yet to come.
Only heaven and earth have remained,
And will remain forever ...
I am alone, I grieve, I drop tears into the dust ~Chen Tzu-ang 

(cited: Trans: Anonymous, The Jade Flute Chinese Poems in Prose. The Project Gutenberg

Nikon D750 f/5.6 1/400s 300mm




Glazed silk, newly cut, smooth, glittering, white,
As white, as clear, even as frost and snow.
Perfectly fashioned into a fan,
Round, round, like the brilliant moon,
Treasured in my Lord's sleeve, taken out, put in—
Wave it, shake it, and a little wind flies from it.
How often I fear the Autumn Season's coming
And the fierce, cold wind which scatters the blazing heat.
Discarded, passed by, laid in a box alone;
Such a little time, and the thing of love cast off.
~Pan Chieh-Yü*
fan…Nikon D750 f5.6 1.60s 300mm 100 ISO

*cited: Trans: Florence Ayscough & Any Lowell The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fir-Flower Tablets

The traveler goes on,
His sleeves blowing back and forth
With the autumn wind,
And the evening sun sheds lonely light
Upon the bridge suspended between the cliffs.
~Miner, Introduction to Japanese Court Poetry, 115
Nikon D750 f/5.6 1/80s 105mm 100 ISO

in seasonal rain

along a nameless river

fear too has no name

                                       ~Buson

myopia
myopia

myopia2

images initially posted in November 2016