the stillness --
soaking into stones
cicada's cry
Translation from: Higginson, William J. 1985. The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku. Tokyo: Kodansha Int. p. 11
We cast our spells by way of words --
Each sound, sacred. Its magic blurred
By mundane ways and untrained ears --
Failure to feel one's way to tears.
So, we're lost upon silent seas
Even when one could hear with ease:
Because boundless is speech's spread,
And boundless, still, within one's head.
Some seek their way to the magic
By means that are truly tragic,
When all they really need to do
Is listen as it passes through.

sweet rain scent, &
sound of spatter on leaves, &
one drop on the face.
I hear the rains accelerate From the lightest sprinkle. Soon the streets are aflood; mere sound Makes my fingers wrinkle. The rain continues to ratchet Up: faster & faster. 'Til it's maxed out at a speed that Spells certain disaster. How can it keep up this dire pace? What sponge this cloud must be To hold on high, up in the sky, The contents of a Sea. But, in time, the downshift begins Towards just drips & drops. No matter how boisterous the band, The song, it always stops.

a deer walks,
making less sound than
most squirrels.

deer eyes walker.
jumbo jets scream overhead,
but it heard stick crack.