Ancient Ways & New Paths Part 3

So often I think of you -

Autumn rustling

Through dry cherry leaves.

  

Hidden by low clouds

The plaintive cry of a kite –

Yesterday’s rain swollen river.

The crow lends his voice

To the stream's murmuring,

Some leaves yet to turn.

The trees heavy with fruit

At the Villa of Fallen Persimmons –

One by one the leaves fall.

Readings from the Saga diary

Beneath the persimmon trees,

Late autumn sky above.

Into afternoon sunlight

Incense rising –

No more a withered moor.

At Bashō’s grave,
Gichu-ji temple.

For the past eight days or so I have been roughly following after the footsteps of Matsuō Bashō the esteemed 17th century Japanese haiku poet as he travelled his 'Narrow Road to the Deep North' (Oku no Hosomi Michi). The Japan that Bashō experienced is not the Japan of the 21st century, but a journey is a journey. Every path we take, wherever it may lead is a journey into 'oku' , also the 'interior' of ourselves. The triptych of posts make up my diary of the journey undertaken within as well as without. My thanks go to the companions along the Way.