re:Virals 478

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. This week’s poem, chosen by Linda Powers O’Dell, was:

moonlight
in the breath of hill cattle
deepening cold

— Paul Chambers
Acorn 51, Fall 2023

Introducing this poem, Linda writes:

This haiku paints a beautiful picture of a late autumn night in the countryside. The first line evokes a familiar general memory which takes a delightful turn in the second line. The breath of the warm cattle can be seen because of the cold and the moonlight.

Opening comment:

A fine haiku in the classic mould.  It is late autumn.  The elements of the moon, the hills, the cold and the breath of cattle are harmoniously arranged, creating a striking sensory impression.  There is permanence in the moon and hills, transience in the breath of living things — our hardy fellows faced with the inevitable prospect of winter, with whom we empathise; and a feeling of “something beyond” — yugen — and the interpenetration of things, reinforced by the pivot line that integrates them.  We are in the presence of the Dao.  Masterly.

Vidya Premkumar:

Paul Chambers’ haiku captures a moment of extraordinary simplicity and depth, where nature, breath, and the looming presence of cold intertwine. Structurally, the haiku aligns with traditional aesthetics of wabi-sabi, finding beauty in impermanence and simplicity. At first glance, the poem offers a quiet pastoral scene, yet it opens up to layers of meaning under the lens of various literary critical theories.

From an ecological perspective, the haiku highlights an interconnectedness between the moonlight, the cattle, and the environment, emphasizing a symbiotic relationship between living beings and the elements. The cattle’s breath, made visible by the moonlight, becomes a natural phenomenon, almost sacred in its representation of life persisting against the cold. The “deepening cold” serves as a reminder of nature’s cyclical, indifferent power, and its subtle impact on all living things.

A psychoanalytic reading might explore the haiku as a reflection of the unconscious. The moonlight, often a symbol of mystery and intuition, illuminates the cattle’s breath, a vital yet fleeting sign of life. This interplay could evoke a sense of fragility, where the breath—the essence of life—dissolves into the vast and unyielding cold. The haiku might then be seen as expressing an existential tension between life and its inevitable transience.

Through a Marxist lens, one might consider the cattle as symbolic of labor and rural life, positioned within a natural landscape that is itself vulnerable to the encroachment of industrial and economic forces. The cold, deepening over the scene, could suggest not only seasonal change but also the pressures and hardships of survival in a capitalist framework that often marginalizes agrarian realities.

Chambers’ haiku, with its brevity and precision, evokes far more than it states, leaving the reader in a liminal space between clarity and mystery. It engages the senses and intellect simultaneously, drawing us into a moment that is both immediate and eternal, personal and universal.

Dan Campbell:

As a wannabe musician who plays the blues harmonica, I feel the poem mirrors the essence of the blues in its simplicity and emotional weight. Like a well-played blues riff, the poem conveys more in a few words than a lengthy verse ever could.

The first line, “moonlight,” acts as a solitary note, bright yet cold, casting a pale glow over everything. It’s the kind of image that lingers, Moonlight in the blues can be a source of illumination, but also a reminder of loneliness.

The second line, “in the breath of hill cattle,” creates the image of warm breath mixing with cold night air and connects us to the earthy experiences of existence—the way blues does when it tells stories of struggle, work, and survival.

Finally, “deepening cold” completes the poem with an aching inevitability. The cold isn’t just temperature—it’s a mood, a progression, much like a blues progression, moving us toward something darker. On the blues harmonica, this could translate into a descending melody, each note lower and slower than the last, mirroring the chill creeping into the night.

If this poem were to inspire a blues composition, I’d imagine it beginning with a single note hanging in the air like moonlight. The middle section would bring in a slow, deliberate rhythm, perhaps mimicking the steady exhalation of breath. The piece would end with a low, resonant fade-out, as if the cold has overtaken the sound, leaving behind only silence.

Melissa Dennison:

Looking out at the first snow fall today I can feel the deepening cold of this poem. I almost need to find a coat and wrap up warm.

When I close my eyes I can see the image – the cattle in the moonlight, this reflecting off their backs and in their eyes. It is quite visual. And it is a scene of beauty, stark beauty maybe, but beauty nonetheless, with the dramatic contrasts between light and dark. Then there is the sound, the sound of cattle breathing. Reading these words is a multi sensory experience.

There is also a sense of loneliness and isolation, expressed in the words deepening cold. There is nobody around, only the cattle. Perhaps that is enough? I don’t know. Sometimes we need our space.

Carol Reynolds:

For writers new to haiku this is an excellent example of ‘showing’ not ‘telling’. Such a strong image it is hard not to imagine yourself in that place, at that time. Depending on the readers interpretation the middle line could be juxtaposed with either ‘moonlight’ or ‘deepening cold’ as kigo.
Using ‘moonlight’ as the kigo sets the time frame. The second and third lines suggest the writer may be a farmer, awakened in the middle of the night by a distressed noise emanating from his cattle. A new calf may have been born, a cow may have become separated from the herd or a predator lurks. Aided by the moonlight he circulates among the cattle trying to find the source of the disturbance. He feels the cold become colder, seeping into his bones.
Using ‘deepening cold’ as the kigo I imagine a big bright moon in the middle of a clear winter sky, full of stars, shedding light on the hills below and in the breath of cattle as it is exhaled into the cold winter air. The third line emphasizes the already cold winter becoming even colder.
Whatever the readers interpretation this is an ‘aha’ moment few others may ever observe.

Amoolya Kamalnath:

L1 and L3 have long sounding vowels portraying poignancy. L2 with short sounding vowels has an immediacy about it.

This evocative haiku, beginning with something as common as moonlight but which always captivates a poet, grabs the reader’s attention with L2. How can there be moonlight in the breath of the hill cattle? I presume it to be a full moon night and the moonlight may be lighting up the entire hill where the cattle are, and hence aptly being called hill cattle.

May be, the hill cattle are only faintly breathing with the weather getting colder and colder, the silver moonlight shining upon the hill and the cattle. The moonlight indicates the apparent liberation that the cattle would attain.

Lakshman Bulusu:

This start of this haiku with ‘moonlight’ in L1 stresses on light in abundance may be on a full moon night. L3 takes lovely light to a deepening cold stressing on kigo of winter. L2 evokes a feeling of inhaling the moonlight and at the same time causing a situation of chillness. Metaphorically, the haiku portrays a night that is ’lovely and deep’. And steers in the direction of something positive.

The kigo is in ‘moon’, ‘hill’, ‘cold’ and the kiro too is perfect in that positivity still prevails amidst deep and cold.

Lakshmi Iyer—the spark of the divine:

What I liked about this haiku is the experience of subtle and gross bodies mixed with the five senses with five elements and its five sheaths.

Line 1 has a subtle experience of moonlight, the glow from the heavens to earth. Moon also governs our mind and it has the manomaya sheath.

Line 2 has the sensory experience of the breath of hill cattle and the slow movement of air from the moonlight to each and every soul governing the pranamaya sheath.

Line 3 has the elements of earth and its seasons with the cold deepening.

Now we have a query. Is that cold from the light or the breath of the hill cattle?
Isn’t this haiku a slow transition of release of energy from mind to body and soul?
Isn’t this a reminder to all of us that there’s only one divine spark that is the same in all of us?
Isn’t then that we make ourselves comfortable in the homes of our own thoughts that yes, you and I and they and it are just temporary?
The strong pivot in line 2 speaks of the nature of the hill cattle who too have hopes and comforts. They too look upon the sun and the moon and the stars for inner energies. They too experience the same heat and cold and the sorrows and happiness and the pain and grief.

I loved the progress of this poem and the genuine simplicity.  Thank you Paul and Linda!

Author Paul Chambers:

The poem was written while walking in the South Wales valleys. It was a cold evening, and it grew colder as night fell. In the distance, as the moon was rising, its light filled the breath plumes of the cattle on the hillside. So the contrast in the poem – between the more ephemeral elements (the light and the breath rising) and the more immediate sensory experience (the deepening cold) – came quite naturally. I attempted to achieve a sense of physicality with the final line, which I felt would elevate the poem beyond a visually observed experience. If I were to have written a final line such as ‘winter frost’, I would have lost something of the physical immediacy and imminence of the ‘deepening cold’. To my mind, these sensory contrasts afford the poem more vitality.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the winning contributor of a commentary with a novel way of looking at a haiku through koshas, Lakshmi has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be as long or short, academic or spontaneous, as you like.  As long as it addresses the verse, and with respect for the poet. Out-takes  take their place in the THF Archives.  Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.

Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems!

Poem for commentary:

     
krill migration
humpback whales
scoop up the stars
Debbie Strange, Canada
The Heron's Nest, Volume 24, Number 4, December 2022

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

Footnote:

From Paul’s website:
Paul Chambers is an award-winning haiku poet and was the founding editor of the Wales Haiku Journal. To date he has published three full-length collections of poetry, and has had work appear in the most celebrated English-language haiku journals and anthologies, including Modern Haiku, Presence, Frogpond, Acorn, the Heron’s Nest, the Atlanta Review, and the Red Moon Anthology. A selection of his haiku has also been published in the celebrated North American poetry series, A New Resonance. Paul has contributed creative and critical material to the Times Literary Supplement, the BBC, The Conversation, NHK World, the Washington Post, the Arts Council of Wales, and the national Japanese news publications, the Mainichi and the Asahi Shimbun. His individual poems have won the Museum of Haiku Literature Award, the NHK Haiku Masters Award, and the Golden Triangle Haiku Award. His 2021 collection, The Dry Bones won the Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Distinguished Book Award.

Paul has another recent haiku on deepening cold:

faint evening snow
the heron’s dive
deepens the cold

Modern Haiku #55.1 Spring 2024

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I much admired Vidya’s eagle view of the verse through various prisms, elegantly drafted.

Concerning Lakshmi’s perspective, “That art Thou” comes I think from the Upanishads: that transcendent reality resides in one’s own ‘soul’ — the atman. And R H Blyth commented:

“Basho’s advice regarding the importance of such interpenetration makes its neglect in contemporary haiku more than enigmatic or ironic: it seems sadly emblematic of the hubris and superficiality of our age. Indeed, serious haiku poets might consider how costly to the genre is the neglect of this profound spiritual principle”

“If the principle of “That Art Thou” were utilized in haiku poetry, I believe there would be fewer ‘snapshot’ and ‘So What?’ verses to sully the name of haiku. The extent to which haiku is marginalized from the world of Western poetry is surely due to a proliferation of trivial verses, lacking any literary or spiritual attributes. ”

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As Netflix might say, if you enjoyed “hill cattle” you might also enjoy these two longer poems by Ted Hughes:

Crow Hill

The Horses