the white pear blossom
by the passing vagrant
in a new burst of fragrance.
Pháp Hoan | Haiku 14 (33)

the white pear blossom
by the passing vagrant
in a new burst of fragrance.
rain past noon in the village
a butterfly lost
across the mumonkan
The Sūyatā open to
a small butterfly
flying into the realm of flowers.
the waxing half moon
in a puddle
a water buffalo’s hoof print.
After dhyana
the azaleas
a few more bloomed.
Busy busy
little bee
searching for the spring
The human realm there
all unaware
the peach blossom blooms still.
The clouds up high
quite shy
on the ground babbling.
The breezy spring rain
gently touched the hands
of the executioner.
At the foot of the mountain West
there be my quest
an eighty thousand trees behest.
Fell a dewdrop here
the three thousand spheres
joy in the mere moments.
Resounding through the night
the prayerful Heart Sutra
from a tranquil spring
On a hill slept
the grass and my hair kept
growing.
A pair of white tuberose
mid the sound night bloomed
new viewers of the agony.
Lightly redolent
the camellias
by the butcher’s resident.
after dhyana
by the hem lingered
scents of night flowers.
At the line dividing
not North not South
the spring rain flying
Through the garden a breeze
in light scents
of a spring long ago.
The gentle whispers of the breeze
upon the mountainside with ease
flowered the first cherry blossoms
Absent from my habitation
the cabbages blossomed
invited the butterflies.