re:Virals 486

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 Ashoka Weerakkody, was:

garden party
between conversations
dusk chorus
— Tuyet Van Do
  Time Haiku issue 60, August 2024 and Akita International Haiku Network "Haiku Beyond Earth" issue, 22 December 2024.

Introducing this poem, Ashoka writes:

This three liner from Australian poet Tuyet Van Do offers easy access to anyone opting to pause a bit longer than usual, to see if he too can join in the fun, conversation and fellowship within the unrestricted space, so inviting, relaxed and impersonal.

The atmosphere created here while capturing a fleeting moment when the humming of muted conversation ceased to register for once, is just the event the author wants to isolate, carving out a passage for the “dusk chorus” to throw in the notice of the missing element, Time.

Time and Space make the Universe while the world and the humans on it simply and liberally seek the freedom to occupy the space while being always subject to the reality of a limited timespan individually allocated to each of us.  It’s the lifetime which we can’t seek to overstay come what may — the dusk chorus stealthily intervenes.

Opening comment:

There’s a long thread of haiku where human conversations or voices abut nature.  I think Bashō began it with:

aki no yo o / uchi kuzushitaru / hanashi kana
autumn night broken apart (by our) conversation

And latterly we have also, among several more, Jim Kacian’s:
porch conversation / the spring squalls / change the subject

Tuyet Van Do’s verse varies the context with “garden party.”  I should declare that I’m a professional veteran of the garden party.  It carries several associations:  the company of many rather than, say, a more intimate conversation with one or two friends.  There is a background hubbub  — rising with alcohol consumption at an evening garden party like this one.  Snatches of conversation, probably light, polite and of little consequence rather than deep or animated discussion — although flocking in the diplomatic corps abroad I did a lot of discreet business at such events.  We also have “dusk chorus,” which is a pleasing variant, seldom used; but the evening is the second time of day when birds call as they settle down in their territory or their flocks; or in the case of some, such as blackbirds in spring, sing to attract mates as well as asserting their territory.  “Dusk” itself tends to cast its own note over proceedings, bringing a garden party to an end in temperate climes, or enlivening it in the tropics (especially if hosted by the Brazilian Embassy).  Or even a hint of dark skulduggery.

And so, I’m left with thoughts that sunset garden party conversations may be compared with the twittering of birds, some perhaps to assert a presence, some territorial claims, some a pecking order, some flirtations.  Or that natural birdsong to our mind is a welcome counterpoint to the artificialities of polite conversation.  Or simply that evening birdsong is sweet to hear when we pause at any time to listen to it.  I think this little poem adds enough variation to the nature/conversation trope to be worthwhile.

Penny Lowery:

I immediately want to know more about the ‘garden party’ mentioned here… so often formal occasions, this one could just be a party in a friend’s garden.

I get the feeling the gaps in conversation are welcome ones… the writer would surely rather hear the birds singing at dusk than the stilted conversation of the guests (but I may be projecting too much of myself here!).

Like all the best haiku, this one leaves so much unspoken. The reader has free rein to imagine where in the world the garden is, what sort of party is involved, even what species of birds are singing! a wonderful and fruitful ambiguity results, the pauses in conversation offering us lacunae that are just longing to be filled with imagination.

Lakshmi Iyer:

The Upanishads say that when the universe came into existence there was this lingering sound of the AUM and since then each and every being on earth is connected to this divine sound in some way or the other. Sound is a basic need of the creation and without it we can imagine how lifeless the living can be.

The dawn begins with the roosters and the crows, the whistle of the paperboy, the milkman’s tuktuk horn, the school bell ringing, the market vendor’s call, the buzz of bees and the alarm clock….we have millions so to say and finally the dusk chorus of the returning crows, the twitter of sparrows chirping away their news to one another gathering in a group in the bustling of leaves!

The poem reflects upon the significance of the dusk chorus amidst the conversations of the garden party which gets nullified.  It’s said that the evening chorus is a therapy for the busy mind.  The poet calls for us to listen to the dusk chorus rather than participating in worldly conversations that make no sense sometimes.

One can feel the sound of the waves hitting our legs and conversing the language of the salty sea and the journey of the millions of species breathing the water in just a single walk through the beach.  A walk through the forest correspondingly transmits the sound of the flapping of wings, tiny crickets, tweets of the tiny little birds and even the wind that spreads the scent of the bark and the blossoming of flowers.  Ultimately, we need to be one with nature to explore and experience the cosmic energy!

Melissa Dennison:

On a miserable January day this transports me back to the warmth and colour of summer. Specifically to a garden full of flowers, scents and possibilities.

When I read I wonder if the garden party is one for humans or could it be the birds who are enjoying this? Maybe it’s both. We often see ourselves as separate to nature, but we are simply another part of this whole.

Our gardens are not simply our own space, but are places we share with other creatures. It is the place where we encounter one another, and come together. Gardens are places for connection.

Sitting in our gardens in the warmth of a summer’s evening, chatting with friends over a drink, we hear the birds singing – the dusk chorus. I do wonder if the birds also listen to us busily engaged in our conversations. If they do, I wonder what they might think about us?

Amoolya Kamalnath:

A lyrical ku. The birds returning home provide music during the outdoor party. There may have also been a troupe of musicians whose melodious tunes which capture the in-betweens of conversations. There’s a silence in between chats when the chorus is actually heard by the people. This is when the presence of the music is felt. Otherwise , the music just melts in the abounding chatter. Noone may even notice. The chorus probably matches the variety of conversations.

Also, just as the birds repeat their calls, the people may be repeating their stories to each person they meet at the party and the singers, repeating the chorus in their songs. Some things repeat in our life just like the chorus. Probably, as is said, things repeat until we learn our lessons. And, in order for something to change, something new has to be done.

Though both the senryū are different, on reading the fragment, this verse immediately reminded me of:

garden party
the brief appearance
of butterflies

— Bryan Rickert
Stardust Haiku issue 61 January 2022

which was discussed in re:Virals 365.

Lakshman Bulusu:

This haiku has the backdrop of dusk. It subtly describes the typical conversations in a garden party that brings people together. The representation of the haiku could be one that brings to attention the chirping of evening birds flying together that seems like a chorus intermingling with conversations happening and filling the “void” in between the talks happening. It could also be viewed from another angle when the surroundings exhibit a rapture like rustle of leaves or trill of ducks in a pond nearby that occasionally be heard in the gaps of conversations.. Whatever occurs between the buzz, it’s a buzz in between buzz, a song in between laughs and chit-chatting. Very simple in verse, yet charming in voices and visions inherent in the lines.

Dan Campbell—if we truly listened:

This is a quiet poem that doesn’t demand attention but invites us to lean in, to notice the movements between its words. Its brevity reflects its theme: fleeting human moments set against the timeless rhythms of nature.

The phrase “between conversations” draws attention to silences we often overlook—pauses filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions. What do we leave unsaid in these moments? What might we hear if we truly listened?

The “dusk chorus” is a simple yet profound image, capturing nature’s enduring rituals—birds singing, leaves rustling, air shifting—all independent of human gatherings. This contrast between human impermanence and nature’s steady rhythm anchors the poem. It urges us to see beauty in what lies beyond our own concerns.

The poem highlights the fragility of human efforts to connect while suggesting that silences hold something deeper, beyond words. By leaving spaces open for interpretation, the poet invites us to linger with the poem, just as we might linger in the stillness of dusk.

Ultimately, the poem reminds us that the profound often resides in the quiet—in silences, in nature’s rhythms, and in what remains unsaid.

Author Tuyet Van Do:

There was a family gathering at my house, and we were enjoying each other’s company. Across from the house is a park with tall trees. The sound of birds singing was a pleasant accompaniment to our conversation. I captured the moment and wrote this poem.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Dan has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic.  As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction and pertinent discussion is of value.   Out-takes are kept 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:

four to hug it giant redwood
- Carolyn Hall, Modern Haiku, 55.1, Winter-Spring 2024

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:

Short bio:
Tuyet Van Do lives in Melbourne, Australia.  She loves poetry and writes whenever inspiration strikes.  Her poetry has appeared in various publications both online and in print, and has been nominated for the Touchstone awards.

You can read more, and several of her haiku, in a recent post at Hidenori Hiruta’s Akita International Haiku Network

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Received after the deadline, from Pamela Garry:
“Opening line – ‘garden party’- evokes a liveliness — people like plants clustering, complementing, contrasting. Middle line – ‘between conversations’- could be a pause between two people conversing at the garden party, it could be a wallflower passing through the conversations of others, it could be a silence, or maybe it is a refreshing opportunity to connect freely with the surroundings. Closing line – ‘dusk chorus’ has potential to evoke a variety of responses, just like each preceding line. ‘Dusk’ being the darker part of twilight, a time of transition between sunset and darkness, semi darkness— has potential to feel gloomy, peaceful, or magical. ‘Chorus’ lifts the dusk out of solitary loneliness and opens it to a cacophony or harmony of internal and/or external sounds or a combination. For me, ‘dusk chorus’ ends the poem with a sense of beauty and wonder, lifting the garden party up from superficial banter to spectacular interconnectivity.”