for the water strider
this rocky stream
is a home



in full bloom
the water lily offers
itself to an ant



sunflowers--
this road also leads to
the slaughterhouse

deep in the forest
a mushroom touches
my foot



in the paddy
after rice harvest
egrets huddle

coming home
on mom's birthday...
a wading egret

two haiku on silence

old tree--
into its stillness
a grass lizard



Angelus--
the silence of
cash registers


On the second haiku: Most Filipinos are Catholics. Especially in the rural areas, the recitation of the Angelus is seriously being observed not only at homes but also in public places. In one supermarket I visited, everyone-- including, of course, the cashiers-- had to pause from what they're doing at the start of the Angelus. You don't hear any sound, especially the sound of cash registers. The Angelus moment therefore serves as a break from our daily struggle in the material world, and a reminder of the spirituality of our existence.

For Rent sign
hangs at the gate--
a doghouse

rice drying--
a schoolboy walks
over the grains



throwing coins
on the road--
funeral march

dozing off
under the wind chime
mosquito buzz

All Saints Day
a candle melting
by the door


On the night of All Saints Day, the typical Filipino household traditionally lights a candle and places it by the door or by the gate. The candle is supposed to scare ghosts or spirits away. But the tradition also reminds us of our mortality, and how short our life is on earth. Here's a text message I received today from an elderly woman among the indigenous people in the northern part of the Philippines:

Remembering those gone first is recognizing our mortality and honoring our short passage with faith and fidelity.