cathedral spire pierces the sun
--Roberta Beach Jacobson (Indianola, Iowa)

* * *

The whole world
caught in the morning dew
glistening sun
--Anne-Marie McHarg (London, England)

* * *

A skyscraper shines
East River burnished silver
Thoughts of you warm me
--Dina Towbin (Brooklyn, New York)

* * *

morning frost
just after the darkness
a line of light
--Francoise Maurice (Draguignan, France)

* * *

sunlight in the pond--
the pink feathers
of flamingos
--Julia Guzman (Cordoba, Argentina)

* * *

Winter sun--
the first few slow steps
with a stick
--Satoru Kanematsu (Nagoya)

* * *

hartley’s hill
the incline getting steeper
by the year
--Mike Gallagher (Ballyduff, Ireland)

* * *

power lines
in a long row
the road to Rome
--Jerome Berglund (Minneapolis, Minnesota)

* * *

tuning fork
this body answers to
a higher being
--Elancharan Gunasekaran (Singapore)

* * *

New Year
more old films
on the telly
--Keith Evetts (Thames Ditton, U.K.)

------------------------------
FROM THE NOTEBOOK
------------------------------

first day of the year
my dog’s light-up collar
freshly charged
--Eva Limbach (Saarbruecken, Germany)

The haikuist’s pet pulled on its new leash in the crisp fresh air of the New Year so they could both let their spirits soar in the park. Guzman hung a fishing net adorned with feathers over her nephew’s bed to catch auspicious dreams floating in the night air.

the shining smile
of the newborn--
catch dreams moving

John Hamley set longlines from a halibut fishing boat until sunrise. After those lines had soaked long enough to hook several fish, a crewmate began hauling in the taught, polyester-steel lines.

Listen to the engine chug
two hours to keep
a buoy in sight

Jacobson cast this line of communication: in touch with my inner moonbeam.

Maire Morrissey Cummins hooked strings of yarn for warmth in Glengarriff, Ireland.

crocheting blankets
the strands
that bind us

Angela Giordano wrote this line while watching a popular activity in Avigliano, Italy: At the park-- all eyes on an attractive girl jogging.

Nitu Yumnam flew a kite to celebrate the Hindu festival marking the transition of the sun from Sagittarius to Capricorn during the winter solstice.

Makar Sankranti--
the sky drapes itself
with colourful kites

Attaching colorful strings to a kite can help it to soar smoothly in the sky like a bird. Helga Stania eyed a raptor wintering in Ettiswil, Switzerland. A red kite can circle for hours on narrow, long wings before snatching an unsuspecting mouse off the ground with its talons.

a mouse tail
disappears--
kites rise

Two of Japan’s master haikuists enjoyed kite flying during the New Year holidays. Yosa Buson penned: Ikanobori kinou no sora no aridokoro.

A kite still flying
from yesterday’s sky today
the very same spot

Kobayashi Issa wrote several haiku about his love for kite flying: tako daite sugu ni suya-suya neru ko kana.

hugging a toy kite
soon he’s fallen sound asleep...
the tired little boy

C.X. Turner learned how to let go in Birmingham, U.K.

I let things go
not meant for me
winter garden

Calligraphy is another popular Japanese tradition that combines a New Year activity with haiku writing. Christopher Calvin made a fresh start on New Year’s Day in Kota Mojokerto, Indonesia.

sunshine rays
first brush stroke
on grey sketch

Marek Kozubek kept his ears open until first light in Bangkok, Thailand. Seattle, Washington, provided a hushed nest for petro c. k.

alone in the dark--
a nightingale’s song
from here to dawn

* * *

starlight
the quiet
in this egg

Zoran Doderovic experienced dawn’s first light in Novi Sad, Serbia. Kimberly A. Horning feels as though her world in St. Augustine, Florida, has been turned upside down by disease.

First sunrays
drops of dew
illuminating the darkness

* * *

dementia
darkness comes
at dawn--

Minko Tanev was astonished by a stained glass display in Sofia, Bulgaria.

ancient crypt
miraculous icons
scatter light

Ian Willey wrote this line in Takamatsu, Kagawa, in memory of his beloved father: nineteen years since Dad passed the moon.

The two Japanese haiku masters who enjoyed kite-flying are also remembered for having died during the coldest month in Japan. On Jan. 5, 1828, Kobayashi Issa shivered in a cold, windowless clay storehouse until his corpse was bathed in Shinano, Nagano Prefecture. His final poem connected being washed at birth with being ritually rinsed off after death in preparation for a funeral: tarai kara tarai ni utsuru chinpunkan.

Washing the newborn
in the washbowl for the corpse…
it’s all empty words

Yosa Buson died suffering through the cold sweat and pains of a heart attack in Kyoto on Jan. 17, 1784. His final haiku alluded to seeing the first blooming trees of the year--it would have been a refreshing sight to behold: shiraume ni akaruyo bakari to narinikeri.

It’s only a night
soon the day will be dawning
with white plum blossoms

Lafcadio admired small white flowers with yellow cups. Narcissus poeticus, known as the fragrant poet’s daffodil, was cultivated in ancient times and is associated with Greek legends. Haiku can catch the transient fragility of beauty and the eternal march of time.

snow moon--
the winter narcissus
glowing

The very first full moon of the year, known as the wolf moon, shines tonight. Hunted to extinction in Japan, the wolves were last seen in 1905--though hopeful scientists continue to listen for their howl. The spirits of wolves--known as oguchi no magami, large-mouthed pure gods--are revered as deity at Mitsumine Shrine in Chichibu, Saitama Prefecture. Slobodan Pupovac despaired in Zagreb, Croatia. Priti Khullar curled up in Noida, India.

Lightning
the unrecognizable face
of my dog

* * *

flickering winter lights
stray dogs with crooked tails
snuggle in straw grass

Giordano suggests few will see the moon, perhaps because everyone’s indoors keeping warm and enjoying the New Year holidays. Daniel Birnbaum found a few friendly faces while winter sales shopping in La Bouilladisse, France.

deserted streets--
just the snowman
looks at the moon

* * *

by the window shop
the three of us
my reflection my shadow and me

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Readers have a few days left until Jan. 11 to enter haiku for photo-prompts at the online Matsuyama International Photo-Haiku Contest supported by The Asahi Shimbun: (https://matsuyamahaiku.jp/contest/theme_eng02/).

* * *

The next issue of the Asahi Haikuist Network appears Jan. 20. Readers are invited to send haiku for the Year of the Rabbit on a postcard to David McMurray at the International University of Kagoshima, Sakanoue 8-34-1, Kagoshima, 891-0197, Japan, or e-mail to mcmurray@fka.att.ne.jp.

* * *

David McMurray has been writing the Asahi Haikuist Network column since April 1995, first for the Asahi Evening News. He is on the editorial board of the Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku, columnist for the Haiku International Association, and is editor of Teaching Assistance, a column in The Language Teacher of the Japan Association for Language Teaching (JALT).

McMurray is professor of intercultural studies at The International University of Kagoshima where he lectures on international haiku. At the Graduate School he supervises students who research haiku. He is a correspondent school teacher of Haiku in English for the Asahi Culture Center in Tokyo.

McMurray judges haiku contests organized by The International University of Kagoshima, Ito En Oi Ocha, Asahi Culture Center, Matsuyama City, Polish Haiku Association, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Seinan Jo Gakuin University, and Only One Tree.

McMurray’s award-winning books include: “Teaching and Learning Haiku in English” (2022); “Only One Tree Haiku, Music & Metaphor” (2015); “Canada Project Collected Essays & Poems” Vols. 1-8 (2013); and “Haiku in English as a Japanese Language” (2003).