There’s a lovely haiku by Basho about the first snow where he awaits the event with great anticipation, returning to his hut every time the clouds gather in the sky in early December.  He wants to be ready to write the words down as soon as he experiences the moment.  When the snow first came to our city in mid November, my daughter made me fetch a pair of cross country skis we’d acquired from a friend and set out into the slush with glee.  For the last few years we have had very warm, languorous autumns in my part of Canada, and this has oddly increased our anticipation of the first snow.

The seasons are often written about in poetry of every language.  This past summer, I stumbled on a children’s poetry book at a library cast-off sale.  It is called Seasons and is edited by the master anthologist, Alberto Manguel.  Manguel has selected poetry from all over the world and of different periods and languages that note, in some way, the seasons.  The book is illustrated by Japanese Canadian artist Warabe Aska who has a playful way of engaging the childish imagination with his pictures.  Often embedded in his colorful drawings are hidden pictures of animals or people.   My daughter delights in finding these images and this activity enhances her appreciation of the book’s contents.  For winter, there is this lovely poem by eleventh century Japanese court lady Sei Shonagon:

Snow

As though pretending to be blooms

The snowflakes scatter in the winter sky.

Accompanying the text, is Aska’s picture of a popcorn vendor in the park on a snowy day.  Popcorn, blooms — all are lovely metaphors, visual and literary, for snowflakes.  And so did my daughter and I feast our eyes this year on popcorn puffs and garden blooms in the otherwise dreary skies of November.

This week’s Poetry Friday is hosted at Lisa’s blog…