re:Virals 492

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 Lakshman Bulusu was:

     
secluded beach
a wavelet
plays footsie
— Scott Mason
  Modern Haiku Vol. 55.3, Autumn 2024

Introducing this poem, Lakshman writes:

This haiku portrays the playsome nature of a small wavelet in a secluded beach. Be it the brief oscillation amidst the swell and ebb or the fun-filled manner in a child’s perception of a person’s foot, the wavelet is in play with other wavelets comparable to a “footsie”. This brings the reader right into the moment where the noticeable and unnoticeable coexist.

The skillful manner in which the haikuist describes the situation in this haiku is one of the beach being secluded and the wavelet “being alone” in its interplay under the waters – one wavelet touching another in a personification of the same.

Opening comment:

Well now! What are we to make of this charming, titillating verse brimful of karumi? One plays footsie (my friends tell me) under the table in a social situation, to conceal a sexual overture that may be answered positively by reciprocal pressure, or rejected by withdrawal of the target foot,  without public  embarrassment to either party.  Here we have a little wave making a sensuous approach, caressing, we assume, the poet’s foot, advancing perhaps up the ankle, receding… While not inanimate, wavelets are not known for their sexual proclivities.  Those are perforce the projection of the poet and of the reader. Loving nature is one thing.  Making love to it is another.  Conceivably illegal in some jurisdictions. Best done secretively in a secluded spot.

Or is it that when alone we look for love in anything, however illusory?

There’s no classic season word but, inured to the chill unwelcoming seas round the British coast, I take this verse to be in summer:  a warm water verse about ‘man in nature’…. withal, this is a light-hearted, teasing,  humorous, joyful haiku that brings a welcome smile among the pervading melancholy.

Sitarama Seshu Maringanti:

Scott Mason’s haiku conveys a soft, sweet and simple experience on a secluded beach. That the sea is calm and its small, gentle waves caress the feet of the relaxing visitor is conveyed in the haiku.

Vidya Premkumar:

Scott Mason’s haiku captures a fleeting, intimate moment between land and sea, turning a natural occurrence into something almost playful, even flirtatious. The personification of the wavelet “playing footsie” introduces a sense of mischief and tenderness, as if the water is teasing the shore in an age-old game of touch and retreat. The simplicity of the image belies its depth, inviting interpretation through multiple literary lenses.

A psychoanalytic reading might focus on the unconscious desires reflected in this scene. The beach, often associated with solitude and introspection, becomes a space where the subconscious emerges. The wavelet’s gentle teasing suggests a longing for connection, perhaps echoing human experiences of desire and hesitation, where we reach out but quickly withdraw. The phrase “plays footsie” is particularly evocative, carrying connotations of secretive, tentative affection—an intimacy that is both playful and slightly withheld.

From an eco-critical perspective, the haiku highlights the constant but unnoticed relationship between natural elements. Unlike the grand, destructive force of a stormy sea, this is nature at its most intimate, engaged in a quiet, affectionate exchange. The poem reminds us that the world is alive with interactions beyond human perception. The wavelet’s gesture, ephemeral yet persistent, suggests that even the smallest natural phenomena carry significance, reinforcing the idea that nature is not just a backdrop to human existence but an entity in its own right.

A feminist reading could interpret the beach as a traditionally passive, feminized space, with the wavelet’s touch introducing an element of agency. However, the roles are subtly reversed here—the wavelet, often perceived as fleeting and soft, is the one initiating contact, while the beach remains constant and unmoved. This dynamic challenges the traditional passive/active binary often applied to gendered readings of nature.

Structurally, the haiku follows the classic principle of cutting between two images: the setting of the “secluded beach” and the wavelet’s playful action. This separation mirrors the tension within the poem—solitude versus interaction, permanence versus movement. The stillness of the beach contrasts with the brief, delicate touch of the wave, reinforcing a theme of transient intimacy.

On a personal level, the poem resonates as a reminder of how even the smallest, most ordinary moments carry emotional weight. A lone beach can seem like a place of isolation, yet it is never truly alone. The sea is always reaching out, playing its own quiet game, reminding us that connection exists in the most unexpected gestures.

Pamela Garry:

Secluded beach sets a scene with no inhibitions, no one watching. With a childlike innocence, the wavelet is personified, playing footsie. Secluded beach resonates adult, in contrast to the sweet language of little ones- wavelet and footsie. I imagine it is a grown up loving the feeling of being young again at the seashore.

Amoolya Kamalnath:

The ‘l’ sound is present in all 3 lines but alternatively in the initial part of the first word and in the latter part of the second word just like how a wavelet flows.

A secluded beach means having the vast expanse of the sea and the sky to oneself, not to forget the salty sea breeze on all the exposed parts of one’s body. Somehow, the sea at sundown, comes to my mind reading this verse.

Scott hasn’t mentioned who else was with him at the secluded beach. Was he alone or was he with someone? Was it his dear one who was with him, if he wasn’t alone? Is the mention of the wavelet playing footsie only reflecting an intimate time that they were experiencing or was the wavelet playing footsie with them as they were having an intimate time together?

Maybe the poet is completely alone and a small ripple of a wave is playing it’s game on the shore (coursing back and forth) where the poet’s feet merge with the sand, thereby giving company to the lone poet. It’s as if the wavelet has an interest in the poet and is trying to capture his attention by teasing playfully. Is the poet devoid of company or is the wavelet which is a part of the huge sea providing us some message here? Maybe the poet is reminiscing about his days with his girlfriend/wife/partner in this same beach and feels that only the wavelet remains with him right now in the present, the reasons being varied.

Melissa Dennison:

Oh to be beside the seaside. I can see blue skies and summer’s days when I read this. Wouldn’t it be lovely to spend a day on a secluded beach? The peace, the sense of escape from the hustle and bustle. Perhaps we can sit by the shore and just listen to the sounds of the waves washing to shore. A mindful moment?

This haiku suggests a feeling of isolation and escape, where the only company is the waves playfully teasing. Whilst I feel alone here, I am not, as I am interacting with the world around me, and the sea in particular. In this humorous haiku there is perhaps a bigger meaning, that we are connected to the organic and the inorganic, to all the processes unfolding on our planet. Here it is a human being and the sea, flirting with one another, in a moment in time.

Dan Campbell is seduced by solitude:

Critique of a Poem by a Shipwreck Survivor on a Deserted Island

Ah, the words are few, yet they carry the breath of the sea. A secluded beach—yes, I know it well. A stretch of sand untouched but for the whispers of the wind and the scuttling of crabs. It is a place where the world forgets you exist. The poem understands that much.

“A wavelet / plays footsie.” A delicate image, almost playful, as if the sea were a coy lover teasing the shore. I can see it—the brief flirtation of foam against sand, retreating and returning like breath. But the sea I know is no lover. It does not flirt. It takes. I have seen it rise like a beast, swallowing everything in its path. I have felt its pull, cold and merciless, caring nothing for my struggle, unmoved by my pleas. The poem does not capture that.

Yet I do not dismiss its brevity. There is truth in smallness. Loneliness does not always arrive as a roaring storm. Sometimes, it is the quiet between waves, the hollow space before a gull’s cry fractures the silence. In that way, the poem understands. But it does not ache. It does not hunger.

Perhaps that is because it was written by a visitor. There is a difference between those who touch solitude and those who are swallowed by it. Visitors walk the shore, let the salt air kiss their skin, and then return—to warmth, to voices, to laughter. They see beauty in the emptiness because they know it is temporary. But I remain. And when the tide comes in, it does not greet me. It does not know me.

I step into the water. The sea breathes in, then out. It does not care if I stay or if I am carried away. And that, more than anything, is what it means to be truly alone

Author Scott Mason:

My love of the water has been a lifelong affair: I grew up in a town called Bay Shore on New York’s Long Island, have owned and enjoyed boats, and even worked on the water — as a clamdigger on the Great South Bay — during the summers between my college years. So maybe some of that love was reciprocated in the moment recorded here . . .

As a postscript, around the time this poem was shared with the haiku community I was pulled a couple of hundred yards from shore by an ocean rip current. (I’m grateful to be here to tell of it.) I guess the sea can be a jealous lover!

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, criticism, 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:

     
white violets
a sudden spill 
of tears
— Francine Banwarth, The Heron’s Nest, September 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:

Announcement: We are building a small team to spread the load and bring fresh perspectives to re:Virals. Next week’s poem will be in the hands of Melissa Dennison as co-host. A regular contributor from Yorkshire of commentaries to the feature, Melissa began writing haiku after the pandemic. She’s swiftly become widely published, singled out and anthologised.

We will alternate.

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Scott Mason, author of The Wonder Code which is now available free to read or download in the Foundation’s online library, scarcely needs introduction. His profile is here in the Foundation’s Haiku Registry.  Impressively, in the San Francisco International Haiku Competition a couple of years back, the anonymised haiku judged by Marion Clarke in the top three places all turned out to be by Scott!

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From an ex-Foreign Office perspective I adore Vidya’s eagle vision, consummate drafting and subtle rhetoric. Yet castaway Dan’s siren song of solitude, steeped in the spirit of haiku, is too beguiling to resist.  I hope his banjo survived the shipwreck.

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Mischief:  we here are all alive to haiku/senryu, the lore, the shibboleths, the finer points…but when you try to explain contemporary haiku as poetry, to intelligent friends unfamiliar with the genre, what expression do you see in their faces?