Why I sat in a Tree Last Night

Or ruminations over the effects of Basho’s frog in ‘Old Pond’

A wild boar is like a good story: secretive, wily, and always attacking from behind.

Or if not the story, then a well-written character within it; boars hold grudges — 660 lbs of them, and have more moods than wicked witches in the Wizard of Oz.

With the snorting, garrulous boar below me, I ruminated on Basho’s famous haiku:

Luckily for Basho, it was a frog. As for myself, I remained where I was much of the night.

on a branch
I wait for my haiku moment
to not break

For dverse

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