I remember pigeons, those plump, gray birds annoying to my father whose view was disturbed by a neighbor who did nothing to remove them from his roof, where they roosted with their droppings collecting. Then older, I remember my walks through city parks where people seated on benches would lean forward, and the pigeons, with their side-to-side movement, would move closer to peck at a tossed peanut, and I felt sorry for people who had only pigeons to feed.
In 2009, I was on my regular walk from my home up a low hill past a high metal fence enclosing a very deep, square well. Above and nearby were phone wires moving unsteadily as pigeons lined in rows flew off or landed. I watched as they dove into the well and wondered what was down there. I had never liked pigeons, but soon I was stopping to watch them—and then becoming fascinated. One morning I stood looking up, turning this way then that way as many pigeons with amazing speed were flying in a figure-eight pattern directly above me, like jets in formation with me as the crossing point, when suddenly one pigeon broke away and in one undulating line they were heading west.
To my surprise I began seeing their behavior in a way that suggested haiku—a short poem form about nature often consisting of three lines of brief words using common language meant to evoke a feeling and not a thought. I had not written haiku in many years, and now began writing what would become a collection of haiku about pigeons! (and other topics too) until this seeing ended, accompanied by my sadness for its loss.
December 2009
sunset
a pigeon dives down the well
what’s down there?
orange-tint sky
but where are my pigeons?
farther up the wires?
at the old well
no sun, no pigeons
hurry home
tired from my day
in the dust
a hoopoe bathing
weak sun
a man chasing goats
where is home?
hot bhakri
three handclaps for a mosquito
finally!
after dark
dung on the cow path
darker still
lowering light
a whoosh of pigeons
oh, they’re back
My realization is, “Walking with awareness may bring an insight of nature perfectly suited to become haiku.”
In 2009, I was on my regular walk from my home up a low hill past a high metal fence enclosing a very deep, square well. Above and nearby were phone wires moving unsteadily as pigeons lined in rows flew off or landed. I watched as they dove into the well and wondered what was down there. I had never liked pigeons, but soon I was stopping to watch them—and then becoming fascinated. One morning I stood looking up, turning this way then that way as many pigeons with amazing speed were flying in a figure-eight pattern directly above me, like jets in formation with me as the crossing point, when suddenly one pigeon broke away and in one undulating line they were heading west.
To my surprise I began seeing their behavior in a way that suggested haiku—a short poem form about nature often consisting of three lines of brief words using common language meant to evoke a feeling and not a thought. I had not written haiku in many years, and now began writing what would become a collection of haiku about pigeons! (and other topics too) until this seeing ended, accompanied by my sadness for its loss.
December 2009
sunset
a pigeon dives down the well
what’s down there?
orange-tint sky
but where are my pigeons?
farther up the wires?
at the old well
no sun, no pigeons
hurry home
tired from my day
in the dust
a hoopoe bathing
weak sun
a man chasing goats
where is home?
hot bhakri
three handclaps for a mosquito
finally!
after dark
dung on the cow path
darker still
lowering light
a whoosh of pigeons
oh, they’re back
My realization is, “Walking with awareness may bring an insight of nature perfectly suited to become haiku.”