Door Haibun
The glass remains unchanged but what I see through it differs moment by moment. This door is truly of a port in air; I observe these shifting worlds, their translucent seconds ever ticking. Nothing rests – the Texas mountain laurel’s blossoms fade and flutter to the ground while the wind weaves intricate patterns through its branches. Rogue onion sprouts scatter throughout this small section of yard, and a squirrel scampers along the cedar pickets. Light slants through a hole in the clouds. A hummingbird buzzes by. Even the earth moves, and five minutes ago rain tapped out an inconsistent tune on my metal roof. I lift the shakuhachi to my lips, and exhaling, enter the day.
three dogs yapping
announce spring’s arrival
oh, sweet music!
O at the Edges 
Superb evocation
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You are always so kind, Derrick. Thank you!
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you have an incredible way with words
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Thank you, Beth.
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“Of a port in air”
Air
So thin a membrane
But so thick
A substrate
Through which to
Move
And perceive
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Yes! And of course a direct reference to the Wallace Stevens poem.
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I enjoyed this, Bob, and it spurred me to read about haibun and also haiku. I was stuck in the outdated and rigid teaching that the latter consists of 5,7,5 English syllable phrases, which — I have learned — is not a good correlation with the traditional Japanese form of 5, 7, 5 sounds. Do you pay any attention to syllable counts when writing English language haiku?
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Thanks, Cate. I enjoy the haibun form. As for the 5-7-5 syllable count, I don’t always adhere to it. Quite often the poems arrange themselves with those syllables, but I no longer force them to, believing that adding or removing a syllable or two might likely ruin the poem. I see too many examples of people strictly following the count, resulting in their poems sounding stilted. And of course there are those who believe that the syllable count is all that matters…ackkk!
You may be amused to know that one year my wife and I communicated with each other while at our respective jobs (on Wednesdays, only) with haiku. Most of them were atrocious, but it was a lot of fun.
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Thanks, Bob. And I love the idea of the designated haiku day! Lots of laughter potential, and also the possibility of tenderness.
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Much laughter occurred!
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Beautiful way to enter the day, Bob.
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Thanks, Sudhanshu. Some entrances are much more pleasant than others!
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I will think of this as one slow breath.
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A slow, sustained breath, quavering at the end.
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Yes.
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As always, you make me think, Bob.
https://rivrvlogr.wordpress.com/2018/04/15/the-longest-sigh/
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Which could be dangerous, but not in this case. 🙂 Well done, Ken.
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Thanks, Bob.
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love it, feel I am there
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Here in my shack. You are welcome to visit!
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Is it a Tiny House? I’m impressed. I have three desks in the house and I chose the least disorderly to show
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No, it’s a custom-built “studio-shed,” made to my specifications.
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Well, now I’m floored.
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As always, your poems grace my day. Thank you.
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Thank you, Deborah!
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Splendid. Three cheers for the three dogs yapping! And for windows or all sorts – something about a frame enables focus – perhaps a narrowing of distractions?
Is this the door with the door harp?
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No, this is the glass door to my shack. It’s where I most often blow on the shakuhachi, so as not to disturb the wife and dogs.
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Beautiful poem. I tried a shakuhachi for the first time the other day. Sadly, I couldn’t make a single sound. Which is obvious, since I had never played one before, but the moment felt a bit like a koan. Sorry for the ramble. I cannot find my copy of Wallace Stevens. Would it be inappropriate to ask which poem you refer to?
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Thanks, Craig. The Stevens poem is “Anecdote of the Jar” – “I placed a jar in Tennessee / And round it was, upon a hill…” The shakuhachi is deceptive. My wife, who has much experience with woodwinds, can’t get a sound out of it. I watched a few videos – the person I bought mine from suggested blowing on bottles to get the feel. So I emptied a few bottles, and practiced for a week or so. When the flute arrived I was able to achieve some sound within a couple of hours. Am still struggling.
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