Haiku by Robert Witmer, Mona Bedi, and Vaishnavi Pusapati

summer
the millstone
grinding
the donkey

Robert Witmer (Japan)
Acorn, 2012

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The word “summer” serves as the kigo, or seasonal reference. With summer linked to heat and exhaustion, the donkey, laboring under the sun, embodies the season’s oppression. There is also a contrast between the carefree time of the season for many and the hardship of the donkey. The poem is in line with the haiku tradition of showcasing animals as mirrors for the human experience.

The line break after “grinding” sets the haiku up for suspense. On the literal level, the millstone grinds grain, powered by the donkey. Yet, the syntax suggests another possibility: the millstone is grinding “the donkey.” This ambiguity shifts the focus of agricultural labor to an existential meditation. The donkey is not only the driver of the millstone but also its victim, ground down by endless work. The brevity of the poem creates the opportunity for two interpretations in one phrase.

The opening word “summer” creates a pause much like a kireji (cutting word) in Japanese haiku. That initial fragment provides a sense of heat and the monotony in the donkey’s circling. The lack of punctuation allows the lines to blur a bit as if there is a heatwave. Also, the way the haiku is set to four lines to slow down the reading, instead of the usual three in English-language haiku, illustrates the trudging of the donkey.

The donkey itself evokes the burden of living and the servitude we all must endure. In this haiku, however, the animal is emblematic of exploitation and fatigue. The millstone, traditionally associated with providing food, here becomes an instrument of slavery or torture. Therefore, the poem shows a contrast between the cycle of food production and the cycle of suffering. In this sense, this haiku may have Buddhist or Hindu overtones—specifically, with impermanence (mujo) and suffering (dukkha).

Looking at the sound, the s hisses like the heat of summer, and the m is heavy, creating a sense of weight that links with the donkey’s toil. Additionally, “grinding” is an onomatopoeia that mimics the action of the millstone and the servitude of the donkey.

As a person concerned about animal welfare, this haiku is touching. It made me consider more deeply the amount of labor and forced suffering we inflict upon our fellow creatures. The slow pacing, sound, and pivot line all work well to convey the feelings and ideas the poet wanted us to consider.

the deep blue 
of my hometown sky
summer’s end

Mona Bedi (India)
Wales Haiku Journal, Summer 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

Colors in haiku can add psychological, emotional, and sometimes spiritual dimensions. In this haiku, the deep blue could imply a kind of melancholy or a sense of calmness and mystery. Perhaps the poet’s hometown has significantly changed over the years, yet a certain nostalgia seems to remain. This resonates with the turning of the seasons as well. As summer ends, in certain parts of the world, there is a noticeable shift to the cooler air of autumn. Perhaps the end of summer also signifies that the poet is letting go of something and starting a new chapter in their life.

I appreciate how, even though this is a personal haiku, it transports readers into their own hometowns, acting as a kind of portal into the past and perhaps the future. There is a strong sense of place in this poem that connects us with the land, yet also with our family, friends, and the people we grew up with. A well-written haiku.

cloud hills—
between sips of tea
the smell of petrichor


Vaishnavi Pusapati (India)
Under the Bashō, March 13 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

A meditative verse, steeped in stillness, sensory richness, and inward calm with deeply evocative undertones. It makes me think of the times when I used to enjoy tea and pakoras during the rain in our village haveli. The main reason behind that joy was the smell of petrichor, which always captivated my senses and allowed me to thoroughly enjoy the scene.

‘Cloud hills’ could be either a kigo (seasonal reference) or a place intentionally chosen by the poet to preserve certain past memories or simply to enjoy a moment of peace with nature. I find it more surreal and dreamy when I imagine places like this—where one can witness the beauty of different seasonal changes all at once. I see clouds as dreams, and hills as passion and emotion—elements the observer is trying to connect with. The em dash in the first line makes the image feel more intimate and personal, hinting at a deeper emotional association with the place.

The second line, ‘between sips of tea,’ feels especially meditative and thought-provoking. It reminds me of a tea ceremony, where one is fully present and mindful, experiencing the ‘here and now.’ The sips seem to help the person unwind and appreciate the moment through all their senses. The use of the word ‘between’ invites readers to pause and take in the scene—whether that moment is brief or lingering. It reflects an aesthetic appreciation of drinking, where tea becomes more than a beverage—it becomes a profound experience for the body, senses, and mind.

The final line presents a beautiful blend: the aroma of tea merging with the smell of petrichor. It’s one of the most powerful combinations—evoking refreshed emotions and thoughts. It feels as though the poet is in perfect harmony with nature, immersed in a moment that is spiritual, nostalgic, and even a little mysterious. Both aromas—the tea and the petrichor—engage the sense of smell, which often requires deep attention and presence to truly notice.

Finally, the repeated ‘e’ sounds throughout the haiku add a soft rhythm, making it feel more musical and sensual.

“Wind and Sea” by HM Saffer

Haiku by Robert Witmer, Ranu Jain, and John Paul Caponigro

carefully
a stranger’s footsteps
in the shoemaker’s hands

Robert Witmer (Japan)
Modern Haiku, 54.3, Autumn 2023

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An intriguing haiku that can be read in at least two different ways. On first read, I see a shoemaker repairing someone’s shoes. The shoemaker doesn’t know this stranger, and yet performs a service. This involves a great deal of care and caution. The shoes themselves tell stories based on their appearance. I appreciate how the details of the shoes are left to the reader.

This haiku could also encourage us to contemplate where shoes come from. However, on a broader scope, this haiku involves a deep contemplation on where everything that we wear comes from. 

In short, this is an interesting psychological haiku that focuses on a worker’s interactions with the public. This is also a haiku that adds to an important conversation about work, the economy, and the making of shoes (and everything that we wear). A significant haiku.

waterfall picnic
all our music
live streamed

Ranu Jain (Australia)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The humor in this haiku or senryu is at once amusing and deep. The jocular aspect of it is the pun in the word “streamed,” which relates to both the streaming water and the modern trend of streaming music online. The poet could be having a picnic with friends or family and playing music, with the waterfall “streaming” the sound to everyone in the vicinity. The more subtle viewpoint is that we have gotten so attached to being online that we have forgotten that nature’s music is all around us. A waterfall, a bird, the stones beneath our feet—nature is creating music constantly. The trick is to spare a moment to listen. We don’t need to pay for subscriptions or own devices. Live streaming music in nature is free and without hidden agendas.

Thinking about the kigo or seasonal reference, “picnic” is most likely placed in spring or summer. This points to the abundance that is illustrated by the presence of waterfalls and music all around us. So, I would say the poet used the association of the kigo and the content as a comparison.

The poet hit the target of being brief, with only seven words in the haiku or senryu. Another principle the poet touched on is the simplicity of language and the accessibility of its reading. The last line delivers a fun “aha” moment that is reminiscent of many other great haiku and senryu. With the lack of punctuation acting as a kireji and the usage of puns, I would venture to say this lands more into senryu territory. However, the labels of haiku and senryu are often not as clear and not as distinct as in the Japanese tradition, as compared to the Western haiku tradition.

Sonically, the poet integrated the sounds of the waterfall with the letter “l” flowing through the poem. The hard yet lilting “l” sounds connect well to the power and melody of the waterfall. A fun yet subtle haiku or senryu.

leaving one shell 
for another 
hermit crab


John Paul Caponigro (USA)
Cattails, April 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

It appears to be a simple haiku at first glance. Yet, it reflects a process of abandonment, transformation, adaptation, and survival. The first line in the haiku primarily shows signs of detachment. The reasons may vary from natural causes, such as molting and infection, to abandonment. But, it is how circumstances push the hermit to leave its shell that has protected it for a long time. It also demonstrates the evolving phases of life that never remain stagnant.

The second line in this haiku, ‘for another’, is about transformation, adaptation, and readiness for a change, like we all do in life. The hermit crab may not fit in the old one or may face discomfort due to growth, infection, or other factors. This means it has no choice but to find another shell, another protective shield, or another phase that helps it to move on in life. We all have the same process in life: a childhood protective shield is usually provided by parents or loved ones, and when we grow up, we have to leave that bubble for another, which makes us independent. It may be our social circle, new friends, life partners, etc. So, our lives are not different from the changing phases of a hermit crab. I like the way the poet shared the development first without punctuation so that the reader can wander from one aspect to another without any clue until the closing line. It prompts us to ponder the different stages of life that are more evolutionary in nature. It also pushes us to think about how attachment and detachment, adoption and adaptation, stagnation and transformation, make our lives dynamic.

The deeper side of this haiku resonated with me after reading it. It depicts mysticism where we abandon the materialistic life and search for another one, which is more satisfying, simple, subtle, and calm. It illustrates how we detach from the physical shell of life to find the spiritual or mystical shell. Not only that, but it forms the stages of life that lead to the path of selflessness, mindfulness, and nothingness, where we abandon our materialistic life by transforming it. It is possible to achieve this through resilience, flexibility, acceptance, and readiness to change. This is how a crab, or a person, becomes a hermit and lives a healthier, peaceful, and prosperous life. I think this is the true essence of evolution as well. 

Painting by Achille Etna Michallon (1796–1822)