Fandom High School

Gathered once again underneath the tree by the pond in the park, with a pot of tea and a small pile of texts waiting for the students, Shunsui waited for everyone to get settled before venturing forth into another morning of poetry in the park.
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"Last week," he started, "we focused on a few of Bashō's miscellaneous poems; this week, we return to his travelogues. Very specifically, his Oku no Hosomichi, or The Narrow Road to the Deep North, as it's often translated as ♥. Published posthumously, it is regarded as one of the major literary works of the Edo era, and some of the poet's most moving work....quite literally," he chuckled faintly, "actually, as it inspired many to follow in Bashō's footsteps on this iconic journey into Kyoto, in the company of Kawai Sora, and inspired by the waka poet Saigyō, being sure to visit all the spots mentioned in Saigyō's own prose ♥. 'Every day,' Bashō posits, 'is a journey, and the journey itself home.'"

With that, Shunsui took a thoughtful sip of his tea and let hat settle a little before he continued.

"Another, far more contemporary writer, Kenji Miyazawa, once claimed that Oku no Hosomichi is 'as if the very soul of Japan had itself written it.' I do not think anyone would be remiss in feeling this claim was not too far off ♥. It is also considered an excellent study in Zen meditation. But...let us not focus on what others have said, when we can form our own opinions ♥."

He smiled over at them, took another sip of tea.

"You know how this goes by now; take some time, flip through the book, share your thoughts and ideas as you do, and we'll go from there. Or just sit and enjoy the lovely morning and contemplate your own poetic, meditative journey and the things it might inspire within you ♥."

Even if all it inspired was the need for a good nap.

Gathered once again underneath the tree by the pond in the park, the students would find, in addition to the usual offering of tea, a small stack of books, which Shunsui encouraged them to take once they had settled into their spots.

"Ohayô, my intrepid poetry lovers ♥," he greeted with a smile, a nod, and a gesture toward the books now hopefully in their hands. "Today, we take another step forward on the journey of Bashō, or, perhaps more accurately, a step back, for while Bashō gained his acclaim through his travelogues as we discussed last week, what you hold in your hands now is a copy of his first published work, which isn't a book of his poetry at all, but rather an anthology of poems from a contest in which he judged, published in 1672. Kai Ōi, or The Seashell Game, is a compilation of sixty haiku by thirty-six poets, although only two are by Bashō himself ♥. The entire premise is based on a children's game, wherein two seashells are placed beside each other and compared, just as Bashō takes two poems and compares them, and determines which he finds to be the superior one. One of the best known examples can be found on the pages marked in your books, so let's have a look, at two poems about the color of autumn leaves:

"Our first, from the poet Sanboku:
How like it is to
A midwife's right hand–
Crimson maple leaf!

"And our second, from the poet Dasoku:
I haven't crimsoned.
Come and look!" So says the dew
On an oak branch

"And then, as you can see, a commentary from Bashō follows, wherein he essentially declares the first poem the finer of the two, by 'thousands of leagues.' Which begs the question: do you agree with Bashō on his assessment ♥? What do you think might be his reasoning? We can talk about some of the selections and decisions made in Kai Ōi, and then, of course, perhaps we'll do a little bit of a seashell game of our own ♥."

Gathered once again under the largest tree by the pond in the park, with a pot of tea and a little stack of small, slim books waiting in front of his for the students as they gathered.

"Ohayō, oh lovers of art and beauty ♥," he greeted them with the usual sleepy smile, and a gesture toward the assorted things before him. "Help yourself to some tea, and a book, which is the work we will be discussing today. What you have there is an admittedly hastily translated version of Matuo Bashō's Nozarashi Kikō, or, loosely translated, The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton, or perhaps Travelogue of Weather-Beaten Bones, or even Journal of Bleached Bones in a Field ♥."

He had to smile a little at that; it was hard not to appreciate a good, dramatic translation, but he was a little biased.

"Even the perspectives on the translation of the title could provide for an interesting discussion, but, of course, I'd like to go a bit deeper than that ♥. Nozarashi Kikō is the first published travelogue by our man of the hour, written in the summer of 1864, and where we are first said to get glimpses of the style that he would come to be known for, and just as his rambling through Japan itself, the text rambles until it just turns into a series of poems.

"nozarashi o / kokoro no kazi no / shimu mi kana

Bleached bones
on my mind, the wind pierces
my body to the heart."

"One of the first poems to set us off on Bashō"s journey, which certainly sets the stage. Today, I'd like you to feel free to just wander through this journey with Bashō, flipped through the book, share your thoughts as they may filter up, or just enjoy the lovely day, the pleasant company, and the erudite prose, and contemplate the nature of such a travelogue, of blending the mundane encounters with the extraordinary and the inspiring words that may arise from them. And perhaps, in your own travels this next week, you may be inspired to do the same ♥. Any questions about the Nozarashi Kikō to start off? Or shall we just dive in ♥?"

One last time for the summer, meeting under the tree in the park by the duck pond, and on the right day this time, too, with some tea and little concern for the light rain that had been falling all morning. It just meant that Shunsui would do a bit of minor tweaking to his lesson plan (in so far as he had a lesson plan, anyway) to make it a bit more...well, thematic.

"Ohayō gozaimasu, ducklings ♥," he greeted them with his sleepy smile, a duck of his head, and already set to pouring out some tea to distribute to those who would wish to partake. "Hard to believe it will be our last class meeting for the summer already, neh ♥? I was thinking of perhaps squeezing in another focus on a specific poet for our final lesson, but I've decided to be a little more...topical ♥. After all, one of the key elements of haiku is its focus on nature, and so, with a little bit of a rain, we'll take that as inspiration, and go over a few rain-driven haiku to help hopefully inspire our own ♥.

"Let's begin, shall we ♥?"

The weather, it would seem, continued to be rather cooperative (in the morning, at least), so it would be another session of poetry in the park for the Art of Haiku class! Or possibly just napping. Napping, after all, was merely the haiku of the slumbering world.

But when his little class showed up and gathered in the usual spot, he gave them his usual sleepy smile and began, not with napping, but right into the poetry, although it did touch lightly on the idea:

( Cut for Poems! )

"Now, of course, we can discuss some of the works of Kobayashi Issa, or perhaps share some if you know a few yourself ♥. I will gladly offer a few more if you care to hear some, and then, I would like us to perhaps use Issa-san's sense of humor in our own work today. With that, as there anyone who would like to get us started ♥?"

Shunsui had considered calling off the class for the day, in light of an invitation from Rangiku-chan and Shūhei to see how many other Shinigami they could rouse up and drag out for drinks to celebrate his birthday properly, but that was for later, and still holding the lesson could be a nice, easy thing to gesture to should anyone (Nanao-chan) suggest any slacking off on his part. In fact, he could even make the argument that he'd held his class even though it was his birthday! Clearly, he deserved to let loose a little.

After thousands of years, Shunsui honestly didn't even care that it was his birthday, but he most certainly did care if it meant going out and drinking with some of his favorite fellow captains and lieutenants. And it certainly gave him a little something to look forward to. But, for now, with a clear sky and a pleasant morning in front of them, they'd be gathered again under the tree by the duck pond, ready to talk more about poetry.

Especially since today's lesson didn't exactly require...much.

(Most of them didn't, really).

"Ohayōgozaimasu, ducklings ♥!" Greeting them, of course, with his usual lazy, half-asleep sort of smile. "And welcome back ♥. If you'll recall, last week I tasked you all with an assignment,, to find a haiku to share with the rest of the class, so let us not waste any further time and get right to the reason we are here today ♥. Please, share your poem and why you picked it and we'll discuss its merits and faults a little before spending the rest of the time hoping the Muse graces us with her presence once more with a little more writing of our own ♥.

"Who would like to go first ♥?"

"Well, well, well, my poetic little ducklings ♥," Shunsui greeted that class with that all-too-familiar by now lazy, sleepy grin, "here we are at last ♥. Our very final poetry class together for the semester ♥. I certainly do hope you've enjoyed my lessons into this lyrically beautiful world, and that you've learned something, even if that something is merely a greater appreciation for the poetry all around us in every day life ♥."

And with that, he started to pour a few cups of that morning's tea and distribute out the cups to the students.

"Of course," he then continued, "you may recall that I have asked you both to come in prepared with a poem of your own to finish out our time together...at least on this particular subject ♥. So, without further ado, let us get into it, and we can share and discuss or just share and find ourselves getting out of class a bit early," here, he threw in a wink, "to enjoy our time in other ways ♥. Let's begin....shall we ♥?"

"Good morning, ducklings ♥." Feeling as though yet another one of those close-call weekends had pleasantly passed him by entirely, Shunsui was very much still in his usual lazily good mood that Monday, comfortably lounging and doling out cups of tea for his students, though this time served in a glass teapot, to better display the blooming, flowering tea he'd gone with for this week. "Today, let's talk a little bit about inspiration, our muses ♥. We've talked so far about poetry sparking from any number of inspirational sources...music, love, history, nature...but what about...other forms of art? What about...." sparing a brief, knowing wink toward Astrid-chan, "paintings, hmm ♥?

"Today, we're going to talk about four poems that were inspired by well-known art. Ater all, they do say that a picture is worth a thousand words, neh ♥? So let's have a look at those words, we'll talk a little bit about how effective or fitting they are to their sources of inspiration, and then, of course, for next week, I'd like you to find a piece of art to inpire a poem of you own ♥. Simple enough ♥. So...let us get started."

"Welcome back, ducklings ♥." Once again, there was that comfortable ring of pillows on which to sit, cups of a nice fragrant tea being poured and passed around, and a teacher with a sleepy smile to get things going that morning. "Hopefully, you remembered your assignment from last week to bring in a song or some lyrics you're rather fond of, and, if not, well, I'm sure you can make up something on the spot ♥. Music is such a vast and eccelctic thing that we can all just assume we've simply never heard of your rare and obscure pick ♥. And since you are both quite clever, I'm sure you've figured out that today, we'll be talking a bit about music as poetry, buth in the composition and the lyrical sense ♥.

"Now, allow me, ducklings, to propose to you a question: does music need lyrics to be considered poetry ♥? Poetry, after all, is entirely based on words, is it not? But isn't poetry also based on feelings and emotions ♥? There is no denying that a well-composed piece of music can easily evoke in us the same kind of feelings and emotions that a well-written poem can. And a good deal of successful poetry is grounded in the rhythms, in the beats....the music of the words and phrases, if you will ♥. So I do think it is fair to say that music along, even without words, can be poetry, though you may be inclined to disagree." He gave them a faint grin. "In fact, I almost encourage you to try ♥. What about the words by themselves? Or is the music important to garner the right impression ♥. Ancient poetry, after all, especially epics and battles were set to music; do you think that would improve upon them as you know them? What about the repetition found so often in songs; is it too much fo poetry? Would it weight it down? All very good questions that we may choose to explore today without own selections. ♥

"So let us finally," Shunsui's smile was almost apologetic there, for making them have to do something so tedious as listen to a lecture in a classroom, "get to those songs you've brought in, and we'll have a closer look at their musicality, their poetry, and where the two shall come to meet ♥."

"Good morning, my little poetry ducklings~ ♥!"

Shunsui had, in fact, managed to slip away to the Seireitei for the remainder of the weekend, in a rare turn of events where returning home was actually the escape from something worse than...well, being home. But there had been sake in the Seireitei, which made the fact that there was also work in the Seireitei more than worth it, especially since there was also beer and whiskey and other forms of wine at his behest, as well, and drinking companions who had been more than happy to remind him of that fact.

And he had definitely confirmed that the island's little alcohol issue was indeed remedied before making his return, and now sat as pleased and in a mild state of inebriation as ever in the classroom, though for now, of course, he would be only drinking and sharing this week's tea.

"Today, I thought we'd delve into something a little lighter on the side of poetry, something a bit whimsical and amusing but also probably deceptively difficult to actually create, and that is none other than the limerick ♥. Now, a limerick is a rather short poem that consists of but one mere stanza, and the idea is to make that stanza count within its very direct structure within just five lines, that follow an AABBA rhyme scheme ♥. Just as the poem itself is short and quippy, so is it's subject matter, meant to be a humorous or amusing format rather than somehting as dramatic or moving as some of the other forms we've discussed thus far ♥.

"Due to their simplistic nature, they often work their way into children's nursery rhymes: Hickory Dickory Dock, for exampe, is a rather iconic example of a limerick, but on the converse side, they also lend themselves very easily to raucous or bawdy varietys, and anyone familiar with this side of the style will surely have a story or two to tell about a man from Nantucket, which I would rather like to share with you, ducklings, but we are in a classroom setting ♥.

"Instead, I have once again availed myself to the copious amounts of printing available to us and put together a compelation of limericks for you to peruse and enjoy, ducklings ♥. Have a look, see if there's any that strike your fancy that you'd like to share and perhaps discuss what makes it work, and then you'll be tasked to work on your very own for the remainder of the time, and hopefully get the chance to share those. Any questions before we begin ♥?"

Notes had been sent out, and there was an additional on on the classroom door in the case that they had not made it to his students, but hopefully they would find it to be very good news:

♥ ♥ ♥ Happy Valentine's Day, my Poetic Ducklings! ♥ ♥ ♥
My gift to you is a free period this week.
Go spend it with someone you love and write a poem about it for next time!
♥ ♥ ♥ 京楽 春水 ♥ ♥ ♥

And, let's be honest, this was clearly a gift he was giving himself as well.

Perhaps a bit inspired by a recent conversation and a general appreciation for the appreciation of snow, Shunsui decided to do something a little bit different for this week's class. There were, of course, two ways he could approach this, and since the portal method was far less work on his end than setting it up with the danger shop, you could probably guess which one he was going to go for. And, really, if anything, this simply made the experience all the more authentic, neh?

So the class would be taking a portal that morning that would lead them to warm and cozy pavililion settled in a snow-covered landscape. "Today, ducklings ♥," he started, "we are not talking about a form of poetry so much as what inspires us to create it, very specifically the yukimi, or snow-viewing, parties that have been a rich tradition in the development of Japanese poetry for centuries ♥. The concept is quite simple, really: you gather together a bunch of intellectual and philosophical minds in a remote location known for its beauty, such as this place, have them drink sake, play games, and see how the creativity begins to flow out of them ♥. We, of course, will be trading our sake for a nice warming tea since this is a school trip," --not, it should be noted, because it was Monday morning or anything--, "but other than that, the point of today is to merely enjoy the beautiful scenery and the excellent company and see what poetry can be sparked out of it ♥.

"Now," lest anyone think that this was just an excuse to spend a morning lazing about in a scenic pavillion, "this is a very popular tradition with artists of all sorts, from poets to painters, authors and composors, and such viewing parties are also popular in the springtime with the blossomoning of trees and the fall, with the changing of colors, and is not strictly a Japanese phenomenon as well. In fact, one of the most famous of such gatherings, known as the Orchard Pavilion Gathering, took place Six Dynasties era of China and wa a gathering of 42 of China's greatest literati, and even included a game called liúshāng, where one floated cups of wine down a river, and when one plucked one out of the river, they must drink that wine and then compose a poem. At least thirty-seven known poems and several painting have the Orchard Pavilion Gathering to thank for their existence, and a great many other such parties have brought so many more into the world ♥.

"Will our own little Kinkakuji yumiki yeild similar results? Let us find out ♥."

"Welcome back, ducklings ♥," Shunsui started the class with his usual sleepy smile, carefully pouring cups of tea for his students and passing them over (clearly it had to be a nice Chinese Clouds and Mist this morning) once they got comfortable and it was time to begin, then pouring one for himself. "Last week, we discussed the origins of poetry and the epic poem, and I tasked you with composing one of your own ♥. Let's start class with what you've come up with, although no worries at all if you haven't ♥. Believe me, I understand that the muse is a truly fickle mistress who will come and go as she pleases, which just makes it all the better when she finally does grace us with her presence ♥."

Something he rather wished his lieutenant would understand when it came to that novel of his, but anyway...

Once they were done with that, he moved onto the lesson of the day.

( We sit together, the mountain and me || until only the mountain remains. )

He let the final poem linger a little with a faint smile and a sip of his tea. "I would like," he then said, "for you to find a stirring landscape to inspire a poem for you next week ♥. As you can see by the examples, it does not need to be complex or long; in fact, the simplicity in inherent in the style ♥. In the meantime, though, let us discuss ♥. What did you think of the shanshui style? Do you know of any other examples? What do you suppose the purpose of poems like this may be? The floor," he ducked his head, tipping his hand, "is all yours, ducklings ♥."

At this point, Shunsui had, alas, resigned himself to the fact that he was likely to be saddled with the earliest class possible, so he'd decided to merely accept that as ironic poetry of its own, and remind himself that dragging himself out at what he firmly felt was a truly ungodly hour was still better than having to deal with the Seireitei and the Gotei 13 on a regular basis.

So he was there with his sleepy smile and his classroom with the chairs and desks all pushed aside to make way for more comfortable cushions, a small low table at the center of the ring with a pot of tea and a few cupsr ready to go for his tiny little class, determined to prove that absolutely nothing that happened outside of a bed before noon on a Monday should be even remotely strenuous or taxing.

"Ahhhhh, poetry ♥," he started, once the students had settled. "Hopefully, that is why you've gathered here today, but if not, well, the more, the merrier, stay a while and have some tea while we talk about painting pictures with our words ♥. On a technical level, poetry is a form of writing that quite often relies on a certain lyricism, sometimes bound by patterns or beats and expectations of a certain form, but not always. Poems can be about nature, about love, about passion; it can also be about history, about events, a form used to spread tales between people back before we had the letters with which to write them down. Poetry is a great many things, ducklings, and in this class, we will explore those things ♥."

He took a sip from his tea before continuing.

"But today," he ventured, "I would simply like to explore what poetry means to you ♥. It is, after all, the first class of a new semester, a time for introductions and getting to know each other in the context of where our education will lead us ♥. And so tell me, ducklings: what do you think poetry is? Do you have a favorite poem, or perhaps poet ♥? Do you write poetry yourself or do you merely enjoy it as a spectator and appreciator of the arts? Share whatever you'd like; we have no other goals for today but to share an appreciation for this mercurial beast we shall discover through the next few months ♥."

"Ahhhh, ducklings ♥," Shunsui, seating as could be expected in the usual circle in the park underneath the tree beside the duck pond, smiled around at his small gathering of students as he poured himself some tea into a small cup. "Today's class is a little bittersweet, as it will be our last meeting on this particular subject, but, hopefully not our last meeting entirely ♥."

He threw them a little wink, had a sip of his tea, and then set his cup aside so that he may find the little boards used to share the poetry with the circle.

"We have one more poet I would like us to explore before we depart, however, and that is on by the name of Fukuda Chiyo-ni, one Japan's most reknowned women haiku-ists. Chiyo-ni was a pioneer in the field in the fact that, previously, unfortunately, the voices of women in haiku had been staunchly ignored or disregarded. Why anyone would want to actively exlude the presence of women in anything is far beyond me, but it was through her dedication and passion and inspiration by the hands of, of course, none other than our dear Matsuo Bashō, she set forth to offer a unique voice and open the door for many other women poets to follow ♥.

"Her best known poem is as follows:"

Here, he cleared his throat, and began:

( cut for poems! )

Shunsui paused, a soft smile on his lips, as he let that last one sort of linger in the air a little, much like the butterfly of its focus, and then he smiled at the students.

"So," he said, "let us be like Chiyo-ni-chan today and embrace the simple things, let us praise nature for her part in our lives, and create beautiful words to repesent it ♥. Or, since it's our last meeting, feel free to write and share whatever you'd like. Or just listen to nature making her own poetry, too. Our options are vast ♥."

The weather today wasn't exactly going to be condusive to poetry in the park....or at least not poetry in Fandom's park, which was fine by Shunsui, as he had been saving a particular class for a day just like this one that would involve a nice little field trip, so hopefully the students were ready for a bit of a portal hop, though why anyone would object to spending a little time in a beautiful Japanese garden to lounge about and write poetry was well beyond his understanding.

"Welcome to Taizō-in, ducklings," Shunsui announced as they stepped through the portal onto the conveniently lush grounds on a splendidly sunny and just-right coolness, "in northwestern Kyoto, where we shall find ourselves able to embark on a truly authentic Japanese poetry writing experience ♥. Today," he started walked, his robes billowing around him despite the slight breeze in the air not being nearly strong enough for such an effect, "we will be participating in Kyokusui-no-en, or 'winding stream party'. Such parties were quite popular with Japanese nobility and poets, where they would go to a beautiful location to enjoy the winding of a stream or the blossoming of the flowers or the falling of snow, play games usually involving poetry, drink enthusiastically, and see where the night may lead them...♥."

There was nothing subtle about that grin to suggest exactly where that might have been.

"A winding stream party poetry game is simple," he continued, as he gestured toward the winding stream they now found themselves at. "We will each take a seat here on the shore, and it works out well with our numbers, two on each side. Someone will set a cup of sake....well, traditionally sake, since this is a class," he certainly wouldn't call out anyone's underage status, because they knew who they were, "we have instead a refreshing tea ♥...into the water. Participants must then challenge themselves to compose a poem within the time limit set by the passage of the cup floating towards them on the water. When the cup reaches the poet, they must then drink its contents, either in celebration of the poem's completion or as a forfeit if they have not composed a suitable verse in time. Pretty simple, neh ♥? So find a spot you feel is a comfortable distance for poem composition, and I will pour some tea and set the cup loose, and we'll see how you do ♥.

"Any volunteers for our first poet ♥?" he then asked, settling down on a nice spot and lifting the cup and his jug, ready to pour for some poetry.

Even though Shunsui had a little bit of inspiration for a class that would make use of the danger shop, he figured he'd best save that for a day when the weather was not so amenable. And so it was under the tree in the park by the pond yet again, with the parchments and caligraphy brushes and birdsong and the beverages (he'd just gotten tea now, based on what he'd discerned to be the students' general preferences), and then it was time for poetry.

"Ohayōgozaimasu, ducklings ♥," Shunsui greeted them with his usual lazy smile. "I hope you're ready to learn a little more about the lovely little tidbits of poetry we call haiku today, because that will be exactly what we'll be doing ♥. More specifically, I'd like to use some class time to learn about some of Japan's greatest haiku-ists, look at some of their work, consider their inspirations, and in turn use it to hopefully inspire our own works, as well &hearts. And no examination of Japanese haiku would be complete without looking first to Bashō.

"We've mentioned Matsuo Bashō in this class before, with our very first introduction, though anyone familiar with Japanese poetry would need no introduction. He was the foremost poet of the Edo era, and arguably one of the foremost poets of history. He didn't come to be known as the Master of the Haiku for nothing ♥. He was introduced to poetry at a young age, infusing himself in the intellectual culture of Tokyo during his time and teaching for a bit," a small smile and a nod of his head as if to acknowledge that, clearly, some of the truly best poets were also teachers, "before deciding to travel often and wander the wilderness in search for inspiration. Clearly," here, Shunsui chuckled faintly, "it worked ♥.

"So let's have a look at four of Bashō's poems, discuss what we like or perhaps don't like about them, and then we'll use the rest of class to work on our own poems, to share with the class before we depart until next week if you feel so inclined ♥."

With that, Shunsui reached for the first scroll.

Since this was a summer class and the whole concept of nature would play very heavily into it, Shunsui decided that, weather permitting, this class in particular would meet in the park, and had ensured that this session's crop of lovely little ducklings had been informed as much. And then it was just a matter of finding a good spot under a lovely tree, probably not too far from the pond, to settle, with an offering of tea and cocoa (alas, no sake for anything school-adjacent!) for them when they arrived.

"Ohayōgozaimasu," he started, with a duck of his head and that nearly ever-present lazy smile on his face, "and welcome to our first session of the Art of Haiku ♥, where we will explore the traditional classic Japanese short form of poetry know for its brevity, its beauty, and its ability to say much in very, very little ♥. Please, help yourself to a beverage if you'd like, and let us begin ♥.

"The concept of the haiku," he continued, in his low, rumbling, drawling voice, "in modern times has been a bit reduced to its basic structure: three lines, broken up by syllables, five for the first, seven for the second, and then back to five to bring us home ♥. Already, though, we are diverging from its original form. Breaking it down this way is common in English translations, but in the original Japanese, the haiku is usually written as just a single line. We are hardly going to flail our hands about technicalities in this class, of course. Our main concern will merely be creating beautiful words to embody beautiful ideas ♥.

"It's far more complex than merely the beats of the words and the way they are arranged, though," he added. "A true haiku will also involve two very important elements: a kireji, or 'cutting word,' and a kigo, which is a relation to a season, or at least some aspect of nature. Things also get a little bit trickier when you're dealing with translations and the like, but we'll not worry about that too much. We are here to enjoy ourselves and make beautiful words; let us not let technicalities stand in the way of such things ♥.

"Let us take an example from Bashō, one of Japan's best-known haikuists, to highlight what I mean:"

He cleared his throat lightly and recited, first in Japanese, then in English:

furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto

Ah, the ancient pond
As a frog takes the plunge
Sound of the water

He paused, tilting his head toward the pond itself, as if expecting nature to respond in kind with exactly the sound described in the poem. Nature did not oblige, and Shunsui wondered if he should have just brought his own frog. He smiled at the students.

"Simple, neh ♥? But also vivid in its emotion, in capturing a specific moment that inspires a specific feeling. We do not need the frog plunging into the water to feel the full effect of the poem. It's simple words are enough; it encapsulates a whole scene, and does so in very little.

"There is much to explore with the haiku," he added, "but as this is only our first meeting, we will save much of that for future classes ♥. For this class, I would like us all to take some time and consider composing a haiku that embodies the moment of ourselves: an introduction by way of haiku, based on the most simple elements of it: one sentence, broken up into a 5-7-5 rhythm, with a reference to nature, but about yourselves. For example:"

Of course he hadn't prepared anything for his own example, choosing instead to tilt his head up and consider for a moment before offering out:

"Cherry blossoms dance
With each soft step like laughter
And sake waterfalls"

He chuckled a little as he finished. "Well," he said, ducking his head again, this time as if in apology, "perhaps not perfect, but, then again, I am no Bashō, nor do I expect or claim to be ♥! But hopefully, you get the idea. Now if you prefer a more modern pen and paper to compose your poems, please do that, but I have also brought with me some parchment and calligraphy brushes if you'd like to try to make the experience a little more immersive. Take a moment to consider your introduction haikus and towards the end of the class, we'll share ♥. And I also have a little assignment for you ducklings for next week, as well; I'd like you each to find your own haiku in the wild and bring it in and we shall discuss them next week ♥. Any questions before we begin?"