A Sense of Place

A Sense of Place: HIKING TRAIL – hearing

 

 

A Sense of Place

In his essay ‘So:ba’, given at the International Haiku Conference (SUNY Plattsburgh, NY, 2008) and published serially in Frogpond, Jim Kacian discusses the concept of ba:

“If you look up ba in any Japanese-English Dictionary you’ll find it means “place” or “site” or “occasion”. And these are all true in the most general sense—ba is a pointer to a kind of awareness that something of importance is happening in time and space.”

So here we are…

In the following weeks we will get back to haiku basics and explore specific locations with an emphasis on the senses, and with the intention of improving our own haiku practice. Ideally, participants will select an actual location that they can visit, or a location from memory that they have visited in the past. Failing that, we always have our imaginations – and you’re invited to join in the fun! Submit an original unpublished poem (or poems) via our Contact Form by Sunday midnight on the theme of the week, including your name as you would like it to appear, and place of residence. I will select from these for the column, and add commentary.

 

next week’s theme:  HIKING TRAIL – smell

We remain on the trail – if possible, the same one as last week – but now we explore the sense of smell… the deadline for this theme is midnight Pacific Time, Sunday 04 November 2018.

I look forward to reading your submissions.

 

A Sense of Place:  HIKING TRAIL – hearing

The poems that I select from submissions are the ones that I think best suit the theme, as it grows and evolves into a column each week. Other poems in a submission might be excellent – just not as clear a fit with the theme, or not as original a take on the theme, especially when compared to the poems already selected for the column. And although I have only chosen a handful each week to comment on, this is not a reflection on the others in the column. As I have noted in the past, all the poems posted in each column deserve commentary, and that is what I am hoping to achieve in 2019 – where fewer poems will be featured, but there is more discussion about them in the blog comments… it is this sharing and learning that I am hoping to emphasize, because we all have something to contribute to the discussion, as well as something to learn from each other… again, I urge all readers to check out those comments, and join in!

long trail
the sound of wind
swallowing my sighs

Debbi Antebi
London, UK

There is the suggestion of several things going on here – the sighing, possibly because it is such a long trail, is not being heard, and this description of the wind swallowing other sounds… it has certainly taken my breath away…

 

winter  trail
the white noise
of snow

Eufemia Griffo

snowy hike
the music
of empty spaces

Lucy Whitehead
Essex, UK

I want to highlight these two snow poems mostly because where I live, the snow has begun to fall, so the poems resonate with me and are timely. More than that, they both evoke the feeling of being out walking in the snow, and, in particular, what that can sound like – and I look forward to reading others’ comments on these poems…

 

the snapping sound
of brittle brush breaking –
hiking trail

Michael H. Lester
Los Angeles CA USA

The alliteration in this poem adds to the sound of it, and I can hear a bear coming for me!

 

wind across the trail
the creak and groan
of bare limbs

Polona Oblak
Ljubljana, Slovenia

The trees, of course, can creak and groan in a wind, but so too can a person’s arms and legs on a hike… or maybe they would if they could…

 

hurried kiss
voices rush up the trail
below us

Pris Campbell

Sometimes a haiku paints a picture – in this case, perhaps an entire scene – yet without any extraneous information. Who are these people who are stealing a kiss? What is their story? And what about the others who approach? There isn’t enough room in a haiku for these details – nor is there enough time!

Here are the rest of my selections for this week:

I hear a strange bird
around the trail’s bend
but can never catch it

Aalix Roake

 

pilgrimage a voice you can’t explain

Adrian Bouter

 

an icy wind
rumples the zipped tents –
glowing embers pop

Al Gallia
Lafayette, Louisiana USA

 

world’s wind
the blue echo
of past skies

Alan Summers
Wiltshire, England

 

hurry up the pace –
only the sound of the wind
along the path

Angela Giordano

 

shelter –
the echo of a bell
from the window

Angiola Inglese

 

heavy breathing
on the climb –
his outstretched hand

Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo

 

Evening fog
Fills the forest
Song of my ancestors

Anna Victoria Goluba

 

hiking trail
she whispers
bare branches

Anthony Rabang

 

pilgrimage –
the rhythmic trot
of a hill mule

arvinder kaur
Chandigarh, India

 

a wiggle and splash
from the salmon creek
my worn-out boots

Astrid Egger

 

a hiking trail
answers all my questions
crackling leaves

Barbara Kaufmann
NY

 

deep in the canyon
I follow the whispers
of the creek

Barbara Tate
Winchester, TN

 

owl glides over
farm track at dusk –
whisper of air

Bob Whitmire
Round Pond, Maine

 

morning trek
castanets and mandolins
still ringing in my ears

Bona M. Santos
on the Iberian Peninsula trail

 

winding path
no rustle or chirp
in sight

C.R. Harper

 

hiking trail
a seagull’s cry
leads me to summer

Celestine Nudanu

 

campaign trail
littered with cash
echoing empty promises

Charles Harmon
Los Angeles, CA

 

sheltered creek
the echoes of children’s laughter

Christina Chin
Kuching, Sarawak

 

deep forest trail
the search party follows
my pup’s excited yelps

Christina Sng

 

on trails we once walked
your voice still
in soft breezes

Christine Goodnough

 

stumbling
on slippery rocks
the clatter of hooves

Claire Vogel Camargo

 

a long trail…
escape from yourself
in the cricket’s song

Danijela Grbelja
Croatia, Sibenik

 

between sips from my hiking bottle
summer breeze
playing the flute

David Gale
Gloucester, UK

 

quiet mind
twigs snap
underfoot

Deborah P Kolodji
Temple City, CA

 

kiting in the sky
3 red-tailed hawks
then simply sky

Devin Harrison
Vancouver Island, Canada

 

behind the hikers
no one heard the fracture
of my broken leg

Dubravka Šcukanec
Croatia

 

Long Trail
under the doe’s feet
rustled leaves

Frank J. Tassone

 

autumn woodland
leaves on the path
one last rustle

Gary Evans
Stanwood, Washington

 

crossing a pasture
to the trail
bark of a pheasant

Greer Woodward
Waimea, HI

 

country map
so I hear
you’re hiking

Guliz Mutlu

 

Via Engadina*
the whispers
of stone pines

(*Long distance hiking trail in Graubuenden)

Helga Stania
Switzerland

 

forest hiking
the tree creaks
after each step

Hifsa Ashraf
Pakistan

 

hill trek
carried on the breeze
a shepherd’s plaintive flute

Ingrid Baluchi
Macedonia

 

hiking club
line of chatter
winding down the trail

janice munro
Ontario, CA

 

mountain trail
someone behind me
wears flip flops

Joanne van Helvoort
Netherlands

 

rock scrambling
at the peak
grandchildren’s laughter

Judith Hishikawa
West Burke, Vermont

 

solo backpack trip –
out loud or in my head?
the same voice

Judt Shrode
Tacoma Washington

 

two paths diverge
I take the one
less noisy

Kath Abela Wilson
Shanghai, China
(visiting from California)

 

nature guide
following the trail
of the song sparrow

Kimberly Esser
Los Angeles, CA

 

Dew covered brush
Morning hike
Shattered by thunder

Kimberly Spring
Lakewood, Ohio

 

late night hike
the cricket tells me
to find myself

Lori A Minor

 

green beechwood…
a nightingale song
in my thoughts

faggeta verde…
un canto di usignolo
nei miei pensieri

Lucia Fontana
Milan, Italy

 

spilling down
over high red ledges
a canyon wren’s song

m. shane pruett

 

fainter and fainter
the tinkle of bell birds
winding trail

Madhuri Pillai

 

silent steps
pine needles
cushion the path

Margaret Walker

 

far from the top…
the rumble
of a falling stone

Margherita Petriccione

 

intermittent
Katy-did, Katy-didn’t
Autumn trail

Margo Williams
Stayton, Oregon

 

montane forest
a silence of tree-fern trunks
underfoot

Marietta McGregor

 

shale bed trail
a tiny shark’s tooth
in rippled silence

Marilyn Appl Walker

 

desert trail
in the space before dawn
one bird’s song

Marilyn Ashbaugh
Saquaro National Park, USA

 

swarming hornets turning back

Mark Gilbert
UK

 

a moorhen
without her mate –
river trek

Martha Magenta
England, UK

 

Off the trail in time –
the ping of hail
on my car roof

michael ceraolo
South Euclid, Ohio

 

Salisbury Pass
exchanging pleasantry
with a common crow

Michael Henry Lee

 

wild boar trail
the sudden rumpa dum-bum
in my chest

(In various regions of The Netherlands and Northern Italy there has been an explosive growth of the Wild Boar population causing dangerous situations with nature explorers and in traffic especially. Sadly the only solution being considered is to kill many of them.)

Michael Smeer
Haarlemmermeer, The Netherlands

 

overriding
our conversation
waterfall trail

Michele L. Harvey

 

circling the churchyard
the haunting song
of the curlew

Mike Gallagher
Listowel, Ireland

 

deep into the woods…
just me and the cheerful sound
of a chickadee

Mike Stinson

 

North wind –
last leaves jingling
in the birch forest

Monica Federico

 

ending together…
hiking trail and
father’s favourite songs

Muskaan Ahuja
Chandigarh, India

 

fall hike
our footsteps silenced
by pine needles

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio

 

alone on the trail
with steps behind nearing –
my recurrent dream

Natalia Kuznetsova
Russia

 

forest trail
scolding us
a red squirrel

Olivier Schopfer
Geneva, Switzerland

 

trail head
the sighs
of our group

Pat Davis
Pembroke, NH  USA

 

trail summit
alone with the sounds
of breathing

Peter Jastermsky

 

camp songs distract the child   his aching legs

Philip Whitley
SC, USA

 

screams
from the seagulls
cliff edge walk

Rachel Sutcliffe

 

river trail
gurgling
some where

Radhamani sarma
Chennai

 

deep in the forest
birdsong
lullaby

Radostina Dragostinova
Bulgaria

 

snake rattle
all of us freeze tagged
on the rocky trail

Randy Brooks

 

standing still
on the trail
mule deer breathing

Rehn Kovacic

 

plotting the orbit of the moon the skylark’s song

Réka Nyitrai

 

venice back lanes –
a murmuring throng
before nightfall

robyn brooks
usa

 

the old dog
in my backpack
starts to snore

Ron C. Moss
Tasmania, Australia

 

breaking the back
of a dried maple leaf
my bootheel lifts

ron scully

 

O’Bannon Creek thaw
murmuring
about pollution

Ronald K. Craig
Batavia, OH  USA

 

along the path –
only the sound
of my footsteps

Rosa Maria Di Salvatore

 

solitary hike
on the trail I can hear
myself think

Sari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY

 

garden path
quiet creak of the gate
at dusk

Serhiy Shpychenko
Kyiv, UA

 

hiking the steep trail
together
heavy breathing

shandon land

 

coast to coast
a rhythmical swish
in dry gaiters

simonj
UK

 

autumn eve
constant crunching of
the new shoes

Slobodan Pupovac
Zagreb, Croatia

 

summit day
the sound of my heart
near the sky

Stephen A. Peters

 

sssuddenly rattle snake

Susan Rogers
Los Angeles, CA, USA

 

along the path –
only the sound of the wind
on the hawthorn

Teresa Piras

 

trail’s end
this silence
within

Tia Haynes
Lakewood, Ohio, USA

 

forest walk –
invisible brook sounds
from the dead leaves

Tomislav Maretic

 

hiking –
on the rocky trail
wind whistles

Tsanka Shishkova

 

summer hike –
the forest hums
with cicadas

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
Fairlawn, Ohio USA

 

hiking trip
I keep walking till
the birds fall silent

Vandana Parashar

 

overhearing
two old Doug firs
in the autumn wind

Victor Ortiz
Bellingham, WA

 

forest trail
tracking each tentative step
invisible sounds

Vishnu Kapoor

 

dusty trail
the swishing sound
of flavored water

Willie Bongcaron

 

 

Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada and an Associate Member of the League of Canadian Poets. She recently co-edited an anthology of crime-themed haiku called Body of Evidence: a collection of killer ’ku.

 

This Post Has 72 Comments

  1. Upon one word, the meaning of the whole can pivot. I felt this strong in Gary’s haiku:

    autumn woodland
    leaves on the path
    one last rustle

    For me, “leaves” works well as either a noun or a verb here. Either there are leaves on the autumn woodland path that offer up a last rustle as the hiker emerges; or, the autumn woodland leaves on the path a final rustling leaf. The romantic in me likes the latter.

  4. As always, thank you so much kj!

    And thank you Alan, for adding a layer of “extra magic” to haiku! I thoroughly enjoyed it!

    This has been an extremely busy week and I’m sorry I’m so late in posting.

  5. First of all, congratulatins for all autors

    In this selection it’s my pleasure to find an autmn feeling in:
    *
    fall hike
    our footsteps silenced
    by pine needles
    …………..Nancy Brady
    *
    intermittent
    Katy-did, Katy-didn’t
    Autumn trail
    ………………. Margo Williams
    *
    Long Trail
    under the doe’s feet
    rustled leaves

    …………………………… Frank J. Tassone
    *
    autumn woodland
    leaves on the path
    one last rustle
    …………………… Gary Evans
    *

    I will mark several haiku that are open to imagination
    *
    screams
    from the seagulls
    cliff edge walk
    ……………………Rachel Sutcliffe
    *
    standing still
    on the trail
    mule deer breathing
    ……………………. Rehn Kovacic
    *
    late night hike
    the cricket tells me
    to find myself

    …………………… Lori A Minor
    *
    forest hiking
    the tree creaks
    after each step

    ………………. Hifsa Ashraf
    *
    pilgrimage –
    the rhythmic trot
    of a hill mule

    ………………… arvinder kaur

  6. Thank you for your weekly picks Kj! I am glad to be among them. I read these a few times and really can hear the movement of trees, faint voices, heart’s thumping and the work related to an arduous hike with out of breath noise while helping another. The crackle of leaves when stepped upon and more really have taken me on a journey. I imagined if I was blind on a hike that I would be able to relate through this collection of haiku that my sense of hearing would be heightened. Honing the senses have really helped me to describe in haiku experiences that I have encountered. Once again congrats to all and thank you for the nice surprise of one of mine being chosen.

  7. Ron C. Moss wrote:
    .
    the old dog
    in my babkpack
    starts to snore

    Even half-way round the world, the same experience. I had an old child-hiking frame that I wore for our old dog when she got tired. Vermont-Tasmania, not so far away after all.

  8. Yūgen (幽玄):
    Where “nothing” is just as “active” and “present “as “something”.
    .
    .
    Carrying on with my theme of in-betweenness, and the lines weaving in and out of our “visible” lines, here are just a few of the wonderful examples. There were so many more too! 🙂

    .
    .

    trail sound of sighs
    Debbi Antebi
    London, UK

    .
     
    winter the white noise
    Eufemia Griffo
    .

    hike of empty spaces
    Lucy Whitehead
    Essex, UK
    .
    brittle brush breaking hiking trail
    Michael H. Lester
    Los Angeles CA USA
    .
    wind across bare limbs
    Polona Oblak
    Ljubljana, Slovenia

     .
    hurried kiss the trail below
    Pris Campbell
    .
    the trail’s bend can never catch it
    Aalix Roake
     .
    pilgrimage you explain
    Adrian Bouter
     .
    zipped tents glowing
    Al Gallia
    Lafayette, Louisiana USA
    .
     
    the pace of wind along the path
    Angela Giordano
     .
    shelter from the window
    Angiola Inglese
    . 
    breathing his outstretched hand
    Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
     .
    the forest of my ancestors
    Anna Victoria Goluba
     .
    she whispers bare branches
    Anthony Rabang
     .
    pilgrimage of a hill mule
    arvinder kaur
    Chandigarh, India
     .
    creek worn-out boots
    Astrid Egger
     .
    all my questions crackling leaves
    Barbara Kaufmann
    NY
     .
    in the whispers of the creek
    Barbara Tate
    Winchester, TN
     .
    owl dusk
    Bob Whitmire
    Round Pond, Maine
     .

    mandolins in my ears
    Bona M. Santos
    on the Iberian Peninsula trail
     .
    no rustle or chirp in sight
    C.R. Harper
     .
    a seagull’s cry to summer
    Celestine Nudanu
     .
    trail promises
    Charles Harmon
    Los Angeles, CA
     .
    sheltered children’s laughter
    Christina Chin
    Kuching, Sarawak
    .
     
    voice still in soft breezes
    Christine Goodnough
    .
    .
    That “extracted” line is incredibly beautiful, it’s a haiku in its own right too! 🙂
    .
     
    slippery rocks of hooves
    Claire Vogel Camargo
     .
    escape in the cricket’s song
    Danijela Grbelja
    Croatia, Sibenik
     .
    between sips playing the flute
    David Gale
    Gloucester, UK
     .
    mind snap
    Deborah P Kolodji
    Temple City, CA
     .
    hawks simply sky
    Devin Harrison
    Vancouver Island, Canada
     .
    behind the fracture my leg
    Dubravka Šcukanec
    Croatia
     .
    the doe’s feet rustled leaves
    Frank J. Tassone
     .
    the path one last rustle
    Gary Evans
    Stanwood, Washington
     .
    crossing the bark of a pheasant
    Greer Woodward
    Waimea, HI
     .
    the whispers of stone
    .
    (*Long distance hiking trail in Graubuenden)
    Helga Stania
    Switzerland
    .
    n.b. stone pines: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stone_pine
     .
    .
    forest creaks each step
    Hifsa Ashraf
    Pakistan
     .
    the breeze a shepherd’s flute
    Ingrid Baluchi
    Macedonia
     .
    chatter winding down the trail
    janice munro
    Ontario, CA
     .
    mountain trail someone wears
    Joanne van Helvoort
    Netherlands
     .
    the peak grandchildren’s laughter
    Judith Hishikawa
    West Burke, Vermont
     .
    solo trip in my voice
    Judt Shrode
    Tacoma Washington
     .
    paths diverge less noisy
    Kath Abela Wilson
    Shanghai, China
    (visiting from California)
     .

    following the song sparrow
    Kimberly Esser
    Los Angeles, CA
     .
    Dew covered by thunder
    Kimberly Spring
    Lakewood, Ohio
     .
    night cricket to find myself
    Lori A Minor
     .
    a nightingale in my thoughts
    Lucia Fontana
    Milan, Italy
     .
    spilling down a canyon wren’s song
    m. shane pruett
     .
    fainter and fainter bell birds
    Madhuri Pillai
     .
    needles cushion the path
    Margaret Walker
     .
    far from a falling stone
    Margherita Petriccione
     .
    Katy-did, Katy-didn’t
    Margo Williams
    Stayton, Oregon
     .
    a silence of tree-fern trunks
    Marietta McGregor
     .
    shark’s tooth in rippled silence
    Marilyn Appl Walker
     .
    the space one bird’s song
    Marilyn Ashbaugh
    Saquaro National Park, USA
     .
    hornets turning
    Mark Gilbert
    UK
     
    .
    the trail in time on my car roof
    michael ceraolo
    South Euclid, Ohio
     
    .
    exchanging with a common crow
    Michael Henry Lee
     .
    wild boar in my chest
    Michael Smeer
    Haarlemmermeer, The Netherlands
    .
    Reminds of The Pig and the Boar: The Limits to Brevity and Simplicity in Haiku by Clayton Beach
    https://www.thehaikufoundation.org/juxta/juxta-4-1/the-pig-and-the-boar-the-limits-to-brevity-and-simplicity-in-haiku/
     .
    .
    our conversation waterfall trail
    Michele L. Harvey
    .
    Note:
    Michele won Second Prize in the 2018 Porad Award judged by Francine Banwarth! 🙂
    .
    .
    twilight
    the tug of a mother’s call
    before it’s heard
    .
    Michelle L. Harvey
    Hamilton, New York

    .
    .

     
    circling the song of the curlew
    Mike Gallagher
    Listowel, Ireland
     .
    deep into the wood of a chickadee
    Mike Stinson
     .
    jingling the birch forest
    Monica Federico
     .
    trail favourite songs
    Muskaan Ahuja
    Chandigarh, India
     .
    footsteps silenced by pine
    Nancy Brady
    Huron, Ohio
     .
    steps behind my dream
    Natalia Kuznetsova
    Russia
     .
    trail scolding a red squirrel
    Olivier Schopfer
    Geneva, Switzerland
     
    .
     
    summit sounds of breathing
    Peter Jastermsky
     .
    songs the child legs
    Philip Whitley
    SC, USA
     .
    screams from the cliff edge
    Rachel Sutcliffe
     .
    river gurgling
    Radhamani sarma
    Chennai
     .
    deep in the birdsong lullaby
    Radostina Dragostinova
    Bulgaria
     .
    snake rattle rocky trail
    Randy Brooks
     .
    standing mule deer breathing
    Rehn Kovacic
     .
    the orbit of the moon skylark’s song
    Réka Nyitrai
     .
    a murmuring nightfall
    robyn brooks
    usa
     .
    the dog in my backpack
    Ron C. Moss
    Tasmania, Australia
     .
    back of a maple leaf my bootheel
    ron scully

     .

     the trail I can hear
    Sari Grandstaff
    Saugerties, NY
    .
    my heart near the sky
    Stephen A. Peters
     .
    sssuddenly
    Susan Rogers
    Los Angeles, CA, USA
     .
    wind on the hawthorn
    Teresa Piras
     .
    end this silence within
    Tia Haynes
    Lakewood, Ohio, USA
     .
    brook sounds from dead leaves
    Tomislav Maretic
     .
    summer the hums with cicadas
    Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
    Fairlawn, Ohio USA
     
     .
    overhearing Doug firs in the wind
    Victor Ortiz
    Bellingham, WA
     .

    trail flavored water
    Willie Bongcaron

    .
    .

    I always feel we should insert a little mostly invisible yūgen now and then.

    A fantastic set of haiku overall again, thank you to every single poet who submit work to kjmuno for her feature!!!
    .
    Thank you Kathy!!! 🙂
    .
    .
    Yūgen (幽玄): Where “nothing” is just as “active” and “present “as “something”©Alan Summers 2018
    .
    .

    1. Alan, Thank you again for pointing out these lines from each haiku! It often gives a new perspective to a poem and is a wonderful learning opportunity!

      1. Thanks Sari! 🙂
        .
        Trails certainly have their own sound, and their own mind. I remember doing a night walk in a rainforest, and we were challenged to find our way back to the transport on our own. I was the only one who did, and found the road, despite it being pitch black, as there was no cheating! 🙂
        .
        So I do feel that it was the trail I could hear, and it heard me!

    3. Another wonderful and informative rea, Alan. No matter how many times I read these verses, your write-up pulls something really special out of them and makes me think deeper.
      These are all beautiful to read, no doubt about that but this one I found an absolute delight
      .
      a nightingale in my thoughts
      Lucia Fontana
      .
      so lovely.

      1. Thanks Carol! 🙂
        .
        .
        I’m over the moon that you ‘get’ what I’m doing, revealing the extra magic that can be unearthed from these wonderfully fine haiku.
        .
        .
        You are so right, this was an extra treat from Lucia! 🙂
        .
        .
        a nightingale in my thoughts
        Lucia Fontana
        .
        .
        I think that whenever we choose the nature angle of haiku, we should bear Lucia in mind, along with that nightingale.

    6. Dear esteemed poet,
      My warm greetings! To be honest, learnt a new term ‘ yugen’ followed by explanation, really enlightening. Going through the list of selected writers, wherein ,this humble self is also privileged one; again again re reading these chosen haiku with a new perspective, A new coinage, a new view point.
      with regards
      S.Radhamani

    7. Thank you Alan! We are all indebted to you for your amazing commentary once again! & thanks also to Margaret, Sari, Carol, Gary, Anna & S.Radhamani for also sharing their comments here

    8. Just having a moment to come back and dive into this post a bit more, and found this amazing educational moment. Thank you Alan, for even half a world away, you manage to teach me something new almost every time I stop and “listen” to what you have to say. Appreciated.

    1. Finally got a chance to read them. A wonderful collection, but two stood out to me as gems.Charles Harmon’s political haiku:
      campaign trail
      littered with cash
      echoing empty promises

      for its reality of the current setting. And Kath Abela Wilson’s haiku that is an homage to Robert Frost:
      two paths diverge
      I take the one
      less noisy

  11. So many fantastic poems this week, but I would highlight these three in which the trail is perhaps a metaphor for peoples’ lives:
    *
    long trail
    the sound of wind
    swallowing my sighs
    /Debbi Antebi
    *
    late night hike
    the cricket tells me
    to find myself
    /Lori A Minor
    *
    solitary hike
    on the trail I can hear
    myself think
    /Sari Grandstaff

  12. Wonderful selection! Thanks for including one of mine! Charles Harmon’s was a different take. 😄 Liked that one a lot too. Enjoyed the ones you commented on very much. Thanks for these haiku Wednesdays Kathy!

  13. Thank-you Kathy for going to all this effort week after week. Thanks for including mine. Congrats to all the poets.

  14. Thanks Katherine for including my haiku, every week a new thrill and a great job behind the scenes.
    Going through paths to listen to the inner sounds or the wind, or animals makes us realize how important it is to appreciate nature and escape the daily grind
    Nice selection, very good to all and congratulations to you

    very beautiful that of Eufemia that hears the white noise of the snow and can also send it to us

  15. Every week I look forward to that touch of suspense, waiting from Sunday to Wednesday to find out which of my haiku you selected. I enjoy all the varied takes on the week’s topic. Thanks Kathy for all the time and thought you give weekly to so many haiku.

  16. Dear Kathy,
    Greetings! Thank you for including mine. So many ‘hearings,’ pleasant sounds and
    silences of various approaches. Hearing all slowly and enjoying , the meaning and melody. Once again, thanking you,
    with regards
    S.Radhamani

  17. Great to read these Ku sounds.
    .
    sssuddenly rattle snake
    .
    Susan Rogers.
    .
    can also hear the sudden expelled breath through clenched teeth
    .
    trail’s end
    this silence
    within
    .
    Tia Haynes
    .
    This could mean the end of an arduous journey through life, also that peace one has inside after a spending time surrounded by nature. Lovely.
    .
    So many fabulous verses, everyone.
    A marvellous line up, Kate.

  18. Thank you very much KJ for including my 4-word haiku which I am very proud of. I note that I was trumped by Susan Rogers’ ‘sssuddenly rattle snake’. I apologise for using that word.

        1. somebody did actually… & they were proud of themselves for just letting it go… but they are Canadian after all… lol

  19. Congrats on another wonderful selection and thanks again for including my haiku, Katherine. I am very pleased to see you’ve also added my notes. Congratulations to all Pondies and haiku friends who are also featured in this week’s selection.
    .
    Fondly,
    .
    Michael Smeer

  20. Thanks a million, Katherine, for having included me in the week selection.
    Congratulations to all!

  21. Printed it out–looking forward to an afternoon of reading. Thank you everyone and thank you kj for including me.

  22. Valentina Ranaldi-Adams’ summer cicadas take us straight back to the searing heat of summer – talk about ‘white noise!’, just as winter encroaches here in the northern hemisphere. One of my favourites this time, and I’m so glad not to be the only one to exchange pleasantries with passing wildlife, as does Michael Henry Lee with a common crow. Exposure to the ‘wilderness’ by way of hiking, solo or otherwise, can only bring about greater appreciation of and respect for nature, as well, perhaps, as a better understanding of ourselves.
    Thank you once again Kathy for allowing me to be a part of this lovely experience.

  24. Here’s my small contribution to “additional comments”. In Debbi Antebi’s “long trail” ku, I got the sense of wind overtaking the sighs and/or size of a body! In Serhiy Shpychenko’s ku, I was taken by Line 3, “at dusk”. For me, it added an enchanting mood. Was the gate being opened or closed at the end of a day? Was it a person, a critter, or the wind that made the gate creak at dusk? In Eufemia Griffo’s ku, I got a calming and soothing sense, and enjoyed the idea that white noise can occur in nature.

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