If We Spoke in Haiku

I occasionally read Haiku and absolutely love it. I love the precision of all poetry, especially Haiku and how it manages and promotes a certain emotional response. It takes this task seriously, and uses not one careless word. It’s an exercise in recognizing a precious, fleeting moment. I read these today:

Over the wintry

forest, winds howl in rage

with no leaves to blow.

by Soseki (1275-1351)

and this one:

The lamp once out
Cool stars enter
The window frame.

– Natsume Soseki

What if we were as careful as this with our language?

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