With soft steps the cat, without awakening the house, finds the sun on the roof...

on the shore down under weeping for time that can't be crossed how true that dream was

frothy thin things I can't tell or hold for long must at least be seen

playful skies tonight islands, high fives, goddesses in the lilac veils

in the solitude of seeing, nothing that won't laugh, that can't breathe

the end of the day / new bowl with yellow daisies / a smile in the air

... this black silken night

someone’s gotta watch, ill-qualified though I am, these dusks and blue dawns

coming this mad fall a doomed story of courage to resist Netflix

Just the sound of this...

Very simple deal: Bashō writes a haiku, and I respond with another or two. A mini compilation to celebrate this fall and/or to succumb to...