Kusamakura

(Leaf 69) – Looking Back

 

In the late 1990s, I used to spend every August working with friends on an archaeological excavation in the Northamptonshire countryside. The site, where we camped, was set in the midst of a huge wheat field. At that time of year, the crop was almost ready for harvest. The dry, yellow ears of wheat or barley would crackle in the sunshine, and the smell of the earth and the warm summer air was wonderful. The following two haiku were each written separately, but they seem to make a good pairing when thinking back to those long summer days, hence I’ve married them together here (see also, Leaf 52 & Leaf 54). We used to put long, cut grass under our tents when we first pitched them in an attempt to give a softer underlay for our sleeping bags, but the grass soon settled down to the hard ground after a couple of weeks sleeping under canvas. Kusamakura (草枕) is the Japanese word for a grass pillow, it is often used as a poetic motif for those who choose to live simple and itinerant lives, such as monks or restless poets, like Matsuo Bashō.

 

 

So many summers

in the skylark’s song.

 

 

Wistful for wheat fields,

crackling in the sunshine

– kusamakura.

 

 

 All Photographs by Tim Chamberlain