The last exodus of Winter.
The bright Spring sun
brings little heat to the day.
I have written poetry before, but lately I have begun reading more poetry. Until recently, my only book of poetry was a little coffee table book of haiku by Basho and other poets, but recently I picked up a collection of poems by Shinkichi Takahashi. I don't know much about the author right now, but I am really enjoying the work. The brevity and Zen vibe is strong, even though there are few Haiku in the book. I picked it up at a book store in London Ontario that I used to go to a lot when I was in university. It's called "City Lights" book store. It's a small store in the heart of the old city, with shelves to the roof, all built out of pine planks with varied weathering that suggests they were bought as needed from the local hardware store. There are no bare shelves, and no empty walls. Just being in the place is inspiring. I had not been there in a long time, but going back to the very shelf where I bought my first Zen book (Three Pillars of Zen) (and yes, I remember it clearly) pulled my distant past into that exact moment. I seek to carry it forward. Not that it can be.
This poem is new. I wrote it this week. I went back to the source and photographed the river that it is about.
