re:Virals 564
“More difficult than making your own verses interesting is understanding those of others…” ―Shinkei (1406 –1475). Citing this, Onitsura (1661 – 1738) wrote: “…this should be a way in which a person is completely given over to training.”
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. In the host chair today is Keith Evetts. This week’s poem, chosen by Sean Murphy was:
sunny morning the smell of coffee among balcony flowers — Slobodan Pupovać The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXVIII, Number 2, June 2026
Introducing this poem, Sean writes:
There’s a wonderfully communal sense to this cozy little haiku. The use of the word “among”, the setting of the balcony being simultaneously a part of the home and an open, public space, the common joy of a cup of coffee on a beautiful morning — it all gives me the impression of a shared moment.
Host comment (Keith):
Not every haiku has to be a poetic masterpiece or extend the genre into the exploratory unknown. Not every one evokes some sudden insight the reader has never before considered, disrupts in some shivery way one’s poetic expectations, pulls some obvious emotional trigger, wallows in sorrows, or by subverting language expectations scrambles your brain. There are also poems of quiet contemplation, valuing the real and present. This is one. It’s the poem of a sage.
In universally understood plain language, this verse praises simple pleasures: sunshine, a new day, coffee, and flowers. It elevates them: the balcony. It is an harmonious combination of separate but related things: warmth, aroma, and floral beauty. Toriawase—the taking and combining of things. It does not produce an Aha! moment, but an Aah… moment. How calming, amid a world of movement and tension, work and obligations, pressures and anxieties, alarming headlines, to relax and to value with the senses the quiet scene around you. It is not necessary for a reader to read into it all sorts of conceivable contexts, although there’s space to do so if you feel you must. It’s a positive little poem radiating quiet goodwill.
This could equally be the hokku of a renga or renku: setting the scene, setting a mood, perhaps paying a compliment to the host, and opening the way to linked verses. Such as this hokku of Bashõ’s:
beneath the tree
soup, pickled fish
and cherry blossoms too
Better than diamonds, Lamborghinis, and over-indulgences. What more could you want?
Alan Summers:
Did Juliet ever have a coffee blend named after her or just the balcony I wonder. Apartments for sale often have artificial scents of fresh bread and coffee to make a sale more appealing. I imagine a wonderful non-Amber Alert of a morning, perhaps Romeo is holding a fist of flowers that he’s just managed to squeeze through the balcony railings without falling back onto the moped-crowded street.
A fun haikai verse, mine’s a straight filter coffee the Italian way straight from the moka pot by the way!
Feet Note:
A Juliet balcony is often very narrow and sprouts further than just Verona, Italy.
Urszula Marciniak:
Such an idyllic image. Almost boring. But that can be deceptive. Maybe someone is home alone and wants to celebrate at least one day. Maybe they’ve wheeled their wheelchair onto the balcony to spend at least a moment outdoors, observing nature. Maybe they’re an elderly person who still enjoys life and indulges in small rituals.
Or maybe the two of them are celebrating without witnesses who would otherwise be at a café. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this person knows and appreciates the taste of simply extraordinary moments. Maybe they write haiku. What more could you want?
It doesn’t matter whether it’s a balcony in a communal apartment or a veranda in a mansion. What matters is that the exquisite scents of flowers and coffee waft around, and that there’s someone to enjoy them or comfort them during a sad moment.
Smells capture new moments and evoke old ones. I imagine that, along with the coffee, there’s an album of old photos from that balcony. Sometimes the same moment can be a joyful memory and a painful longing for something that will never return. However, it is better to have something you remember than to never have such a balcony.
Dan Campbell:
This poem walks with the quiet authority of creation itself, rising first in sunlight, passing like a blessing through the aroma of coffee before coming to rest among balcony flowers, where the humble becomes holy, and where the silence surrounding the words bears as much witness as the words themselves, because nothing is proclaimed, nothing is adorned, and nothing is commanded to become more than it is, leaving the faithful to discover that the greatest revelations are often hidden within the ordinary things they have passed by all their lives.
Sudha Devi Nayak:
The haiku gives us this precious vignette of a morning with the rays of the sun lighting up a balcony of flowers amidst the swirling flavours of coffee. Add if you will a waft of breeze and bird song and you have a veritable slice of heaven in a weary world. A time to breathe free, to inhale the coffee, to reflect between sips on existential questions, to experience moments of epiphany- the “Satori” of the Zen masters.
A quiet haven that transports you beyond the grime and tears of everyday life, the banality of mere survival. Before the rush of life and unsettling reality takes over and carries one on its momentum.
To rise above the inconsequentiality of existence, to be part of this peace even for a while, is peace. “A whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of man’s life?” asks Dostoevsky. Happiness has many contexts and certainly the balcony of flowers has its moment.
Radhamani Sarma:
A beautiful haiku awakening us all from our sleep, welcoming with aroma of coffee in the morning. Mild sun’s rays peeping through a balcony, embracing the speaker, preparing the ground for a haiku. It is not winter, or autumn, it is summer, the pleasant warmth of sunny morn. The poem by — Slobodan Pupovać begins with a pleasant beginning ” sunny morning,” maybe colourful clothes hanging to be dried out, gentle winds touching and wiping a wet floor, unclipped clothes in a flight to the balcony… a merry sight for the onlooker, opposite windows shut and open – a buxom sight for him reading newspapers too.
The second line, ” the smell of coffee among” in a prose texture, inviting readers to further various dimensions. Aroma of coffee in the morning is a must for all at the beginning of the day, for a good start and healthy drive throughout. This line distinctly shows abutting the balcony various flats/houses/apartments/ windows wherein coffee aroma, the first inspiration of steams blows – one awakening spirit. The prominence of the
pervasive spirit is the coffee smell, brewing coffee, the flavor arising out of mixing, tables filled with cup and saucers, overflowing the milk and foam. I have observed people consuming any number of coffees per day.
The third line is very interesting; ” balcony flowers”. Maybe indoor plants blossoming with the sun’s smile, shine, beauty and flavour similar to coffee Balcony flowers could be construed as young girls in his imagination / or girls in bloom and exuberance in balconies abutting , sharing love and kind looks. Both flowers and coffee aroma are meant to be enjoyed. How can you avoid balcony flowers : their exquisite beauty, fragrance, sweetness as in the taste of coffee and aroma.
Let coffee aroma endear every household with guests parties and handshakes; let flowers bloom in balcony , in houses, sanctum sanctorum for more joyous gatherings and feasts.
Jennifer Gurney—the simple things:
What a delightful short poem. The scents of morning coffee swirling with summery flowers is refreshing. I love the inclusion of the word balcony because it sets the poem more specifically in an upstairs patio. Versus a garden or first-floor dwelling. The sense of gratitude is palpable in each line. Each element is presented positively. The morning is sunny. The coffee’s smell mixes with flowers, giving a pleasant aroma. I am thinking that it might be an older person, spending time on their balcony in the morning, relishing the simple things in life. Or could be a person who has been through something traumatic or difficult, like grief, and is coming out the other side. At first glance the poem seems straightforward on the surface. But when I sat with it for a while, more meaning emerged. Just like with life. I like it when that happens.
Author Slobodan Pupovac:
With the development of civilization, people are increasingly moving to big cities. Surrounded by buildings, people are transforming their balconies in to small oases of nature, filling them with flowers. Many people have a habit of drinking black coffee in the morning. On weekends, they sit on their balconies and surrounded by flowers, sip their favourite coffee. That is where two scents collide – the scent of flowers and the scent of coffee, but despite that, people enjoy both at the same time.
Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Jennifer Gurney has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, to a maximum of 500 words (succinctness will be valued); 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. Please note that commentaries must be your own personal work.
Poem for commentary:
tidal surge this wave of something unutterable Debbie Strange Haiku Girl Summer, July 2, 2026 (a monoku, in case your phone screen breaks it into two lines)
Footnote:
Author Bio:
I was born in 1957. I live in Zagreb, Croatia. I graduated in law, now in retirement. My hobbies are teaching karate and writing poetry. I have been writing poetry since 2016. My haiku, tanka and haibun have been published around the world: The Heron’s Nest, Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Acorn, Cattails, Chrysanthemum, The Asahi, Mamba, Bonsai… and several Croatian haiku anthologies.
re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).
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Comments (7)
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Sean, I don’t consider balcony flowers to be artificial. The residents are doing what they can and I’m sure that the .balcony flowers are very well chosen and cared for.
To me, the urban towers going up all around me scream ‘overpopulation’ and have no beauty. It’s a long time now since I could watch a sunset
Suburbs: there are outer suburbs and inner suburbs.
Keith, I found it. -) Knew it was somewhere, just hadn’t looked for it for years. I think It was John Carley who suggested the book to me. (‘Monkey’s Raincoat’ by Matsuo Basho, translated by Maeda Cana.) I didn’t know about the book being in THF’s library. (Maybe it was, back then, maybe not)
1. in town
the smells of things
summer moon (Boncho)
Maeda Cana writes: “In the time of the three poets, the summer heat in any town with its narrow unpaved streets , lined on either side with small shops of all kinds, was intolerably stifling. The foul air sweltered far into the night.”
(I’d recalled verse 2 before I found the book)
2.. it’s hot it’s hot
at each portal a sigh (Basho)
I imagined Basho and Boncho had come into town on their horses, then passing through to a rice field.
(It takes me ages to comment because I have cataracts… there is a very long queue before me,I suspect. I’ve given up calling the eye & ear hospital. I use an old magnifying glass to correct what I type.., or read.)
Probably, it was summer here when I was reading the book and I recall relating Plenty of restaurants here along Sydney Rd. and they have (or did have several years ago) backyards where, I imagine, left-over food from the recipes of all nationalities were dumped for the night.
—-
” In universally understood plain language, this verse praises simple pleasures: sunshine, a new day, coffee, and flowers. It elevates them: the balcony. It is an harmonious combination of separate but related things: warmth, aroma, and floral beauty. ” – Keith
Yes, I agree, but. . . after a little while I begin to wonder what might be in view beyond that balcony. Then I read the author’s comments: Sure enough:
” With the development of civilization, people are increasingly moving to big cities. Surrounded by buildings, people are transforming their balconies in to small oases of nature, filling them with flowers.” -Slobodan Pupovac
Yes, it’s nice to have some flowers on the balcony especially if one is surrounded by those concrete towers. Where I am, the suburbs are now giving way to these towers. More and more towers are being constructed, taking over the suburbs, taking over from the single or double stories which have at least a front lawn and a dog.
With the development of civilization, people are increasingly moving to big cities. Surrounded by buildings, people are transforming their balconies in to small oases of nature, filling them with flowers.
Thank you, Lorin, for extending the view beyond the balcony. Yes, we keep pets and have plants as we are despoiling the meadow with our anthills. One of my favourites by Shiki illustrates the contrast between city life and rusticity, and although for some reason you rarely see it quoted, there’s a lot to think about concerning the pros and cons of approaching civilization…
shitting in the winter turnip field
the distant lights of the city
and we could set against that as a companion poem:
in town
the whiff of things
summer moon
—Boncho hokku
Keith, the version I recall was a bit more straightforward than ‘whiff’:
in town
the stench of things
summer moon
but I forget who the translator was. It felt right, though because I could relate to it.
I did some toil on this a while ago, Lorin. À toutes fins utiles:
It’s in the renku k/a “Summer Moon” as in Maeda Cana’s book “The Monkey’s Raincoat” in the THF library. aka “Machinaka wa (Town Centre)”
Cana, the translator, has it as:
ichinaka wa
mono no nioi ya
natsu no tsuki
in the town
smells of things
under a summer moon
—Boncho (hokku of the kasen renga, Summer Moon, by Boncho, Bashō, and Kyorai)
tr. Cana
Cana’s translation notes to Summer Moon
i. ichinaka wa / mono no niyoi ya / natsu no tsuki In town, the intense mid-summer heat remains even after sunset and the air is foul with the conglomerate smell of sundry things, but in the sky, the moon appears cool and refreshing. In the original manuscript the writer’s name is given as Kasho but this is Boncho’s earlier pen name. *ichinaka: machinaka\ in town. *mono no niyoi: the sundry smells of things permeating the air. *natsu no tsuki: summer moon, expressing coolness.
—–
My assorted notes:
Jisho dictionary gives for nioi:
smell; scent; odour; odor; stench; aura; whiff; smack; flavour; mood
The attested text (in Sarumino) is:
市中は物のにほひや夏の月
匂ひ – nioi, hist. nihohi : smell, scent, odor – in the attested text in hiragana as にほひ.
It can be pleasant or unpleasant
臭い used for unpleasant smells (Jisho): not given in that form in this verse.
In old classical Japanese niou meant ‘to glow,’ ‘to shine. By extension it came to mean to have an aura, to be redolent, to give off. ‘nioi’ in Heian literature covers colour, lustre, beauty, atmosphere, fragrance, and odour together. By Bonchō’s time, olfaction dominates, but the older sense of emanating aura is still there.
In this hokku not specified as good or bad. ‘Mono no nioi’ is composite, the mixed human smell of the market town in summer heat: produce, flowers, fish, cooking, bodies, dust, refuse.
Interpreters into English vary. Keene gives it as “In the city / What a heavy smell of things! / The summer moon”
I prefer the richness of all the scents and smells of the town rather than focusing on the pongs.
There are also variants in 市中. Shichū / ichinaka / machinaka are all apparently romaji readings of 市中, town centre, downtown, in town.
Jisho gives 市 as city, market, fair
中 middle, inside, throughout, within
—-
maybe:
downtown
mingled smells of the market!
summer moon
?
Lorin,
It’s odd to me that you contrast urban development with the suburbs, which, in my mind, are largely dominated by lawns and gardens and trees carefully managed to avoid power and property lines, none of which are any less artificial than balcony flowers. They are more spacious, and thus more convincingly create the illusion of nature, but that spaciousness leaves less room, in sum, for true nature. And what we lose for the sake of that illusion is community — our literal closeness to our neighbors. Part of what appeals to me about this haiku is the sense that just one door down, there might be another balcony with its own little plot of flowers. Urban towers don’t have to be an ugly thing that flowers must be deployed to mitigate; they have their own beauty.