Tag Archives: Kawase Hasui


Leslie George Dunlop

Throughout 2022 I collected poems in a folder named “For Grandchildren.” They were of the sort I thought Pippin’s or Soldier’s children might enjoy, and my plan was to either send them one by one in letters, or take a bunch with me to read in person with them.

I selected a few from that collection to take in a sheaf to Colorado at Christmas, and the boys were interested to see what I’d brought, and to listen to and with me. After we read my bunch, they brought me two of their favorite books of poetry to read from, one of which was A.A. Milne. Here is one of my offerings that we read, which I really appreciate this week when in my area we are experiencing the Atmospheric River. I am thankful for it, I assure you, but I can relate to feeling “just not the same” with this rainy brain.


I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can’t do a handstand–
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said–
I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.

-Shel Silverstein

Okutama in the Rain by Kawase Hasui

Cold Rain

When I got in my car this morning, I wore two wool sweaters, plus a raincoat. It was only drizzling so I wondered if I were a bit overdressed. But as I drove up the freeway to pick up a friend for church, suddenly it was drenching rain. Cats and Dogs. Buckets. I explained our American descriptors for a lot of rain to my African friend, but those phrases were inadequate to describe the feelings I had about the great blessing of water during those twenty minutes of downpour.

When was the last time I was out in that much rain? Could it be real? Yes, it was real — real water that is our daily miracle and sustenance, whether we live in the desert or by a constant river. There were puddles to show that when I was in bed last night, and even yesterday when I sat far from the window, at fireside, it had rained a good amount. I am so thankful.


A cold rain starting
And no hat—

-Matsuo Basho, (1644-1694) Japan

Okutama in the Rain by Kawase Hasui