We have entered the micro-season of “Fish Rise From the Ice”. This is the third micro-season of the mini-season First Spring. To celebrate this season, we will learn about how ice melts and then read seasonal haiku by Basho, Kerouac, Issa, and Buson.
Micro-Season: “Fish Rise From The Ice” (2023) — Naturalist Weekly
Here are two from last year. Not exactly ice-melting specific but the effects of it. The second one is spaced and punctuated to emphasize the danger of melting ice, especially for this grandmother. 🙂 I’ve included links for the photos which are always a joy to find.
Spring mud aroma
Rust and rot, sour, salty, sweet
Kids’ boots stuck in muck
Wary elders tread
probing pavement with their canes
Spring melt? or black ice!
https://maryjomalo.wordpress.com/2021/03/11/haiku-18/
https://maryjomalo.wordpress.com/2021/03/18/haiku-19/
THE WOUND THAT HEALS 
Excellent ku. No worries about boots stuck in mud around these parts.
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Right. Your micro-seasons are few and far between. 🙂 Thanks, Tim.
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We have a lot of seasonal and daily change in micro-climate. Our property is often 5 to 10 degrees colder that a mile any direction. But there is little precipitation to make mud.
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I’m ambivalent about non-Japanese haiku. We enjoy writing them of course, and I love reading them. The schema of the masters just doesn’t fit all climates and cultures, so we’ve adopted the form but not the traditional themes. I feel this is both good and bad, if that’s possible.
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That’s why I don’t call my 575 structure poems haiku. The 575 structure is great, but just doesn’t work the same way in a polysyllabic, diphthong-riddled language like English.
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That too! I think we’re actually supposed to count each of each diphthongs’ sounds as separate syllables. Haiku translators have challenges.
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My linguist wife says no to counting all the diphthong syllables. If you recite the poem as a native English speaker, you don’t pronounce all the diphthong’s syllables. Therfore, what could be all the syllables in a thong should not be counted. It’s a syllabic mess.
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A mess indeed! Japanese is all Greek to me.
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Greek is sort of readable compared to Japanese.
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I especially like the second one. Well done, Mary Jo.
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Thank you, Frank!
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Serendipity came calling once again, Mary Jo. I had been reading about Fish Rise from the Ice last week. I see that starting February 19 – 23, we enter the time of “The Earth Becomes Damp.” YIKES! We have been in this season for the last two months.
Your poetry resonates, Mary Jo. I have walked on those Spring melt? or black ice streets very carefully. And there is a lot of muck in our neighborhood, especially at the off leash dog park. The dogs are very happy to slip and slide around.
Have a wonderful day. Thank you for adding beauty to mine. 🤗🤗🤗
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And thank YOU, Rebecca, for always doing likewise! 🙂
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They are both great Mary Jo!
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Thank you so very much, Filipa!
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Two of your Haiku well worth revisiting, Mary Jo!
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Thanks, Dave. Sometimes old is new. 🙂
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So true, Mary Jo! 🙂
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I love both of your season transitioning haiku. I’ve never been able to capture the smell of mud in a poem (although I’ve tried!).
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I really appreciate your comments, Liz. I had to think about that one for awhile and do some in situ research. 🙂
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Hi Mary Jo, Thanks so much for sharing your work and linking up to the post. I hope you have a good week!
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I remember these vividly! Still get that tingling sensation from mud and a feeling of unease and danger from the second one… a different kind of tingling sensation! 😉
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That’s wonderful, Marina, that these stayed with you! Thank you so much and for all the tingles. 🙂
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My pleasure, my dear friend! xoxo
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Love the way the “stuck in muck” line engenders the feeling of abruptness, which is just what we experience when boots get planted in mud. Well done, Mary Jo!
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Thank you very much, Nancy!
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