Seasons Calling. James R. McCready

      Preface

      As ONE WHO has never been in love knows nothing about love, so I knew nothing about Japan until I came to this exciting land with its strange and fascinating customs. I was another Cortes, discovering the indescribable joys of a new country.

      One of my great joys was the discovery of haiku-which the Japanese had discovered and developed more than three centuries ago. Accustomed to the freedom of length, rhythm, and form that characterizes the poetry of the West, I was charmed and delighted with the lyric compression, sensitivity, and awareness of haiku.

      Poetry to the Japanese is the highest art. And haiku is the most imagistic of all Japanese literary forms. Soon I was immersed in the work of the greatest haiku writer, and the poet who set the style, Basho. A student of Zen Buddhism, Basho expressed the joyous awareness, in that mystical philosophy, of the identity of life in its myriad forms. With religious fervor and unexcelled craftsmanship, Basho converted even the tiniest ideas into imperishable poetry. Then I read Buson, Issa, Shiki, Kikaku, and a host of other haiku writers—and the challenge to attempt this form of literary expression was too great to resist.