9 14 2014 mossy tree trunk 1

There are no forested heavens nearby – no wildernesses, no vast and untouched lands – only glimpses of the wild in this “white picket” town.  I wander the streets of an evening – touching the trees – standing at their bases and looking into their heights.  Looking for something – metaphor? meaning? – inadvertently swinging axes.

at the oak’s feet
at rest

Linked to Carpe Diem #722: Buried in Moss:

koke uzumu tsuta no utsutsu no nebutsu kana

buried in moss
and ivy leaves, but from within
the tomb, a faint prayer

© Basho (Tr. Sam Hamill)

And here is Chèvrefeuille’s offering – beautiful in its simplicity.  

buried in moss
hidden under colorful leaves
a pebble

© Chèvrefeuille


25 thoughts on “at the oak’s feet (haibun)

  1. I sympathise entirely. Just taking a stroll into my little local wood feels like a ‘relief’ somehow – staring up at the sheer tallness of the trees is kind of hypnotic because in town everything is built to the scale of people, as if that’s the proper way of the world. Though it’s really not.

    And I do like the problematic quality of this line: ‘inadvertently swinging axes’ – it acknowledges the unavoidable grey areas.


    • Thank you Chevrefeuille 🙂
      Yes – Santoka Taneda has stayed in my mind – quite a bit. I enjoyed the lessons in your prompts – grew with them! So — again — I thank you for the hard work and heart you put into Carpe Diem. 🙂


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