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?