ripple
summer breeze—
ripples on a pond continue
into a field
Above is the redaction , below is the reality.
summer breeze—
ripples on a pond continue
into a ploughed field
Then there was the the THE question. That one first . . .
summer breeze—
ripples on THE pond continue
into a ploughed field
There appears to be pros and cons for each version. The original presentation seems to place all the elements (including the breeze) on an equal footing; the repetition of 'a' in particular giving equal status to both pond and field grammatically, but also visually as we see the 'a' repeated in the text.
The second version emphasises THE pond; thus making it our primary haiku landscape focus. With the field secondary we are attending to pond and only noticing field's response to the traveling wind. So, imagining ourselves as the original observer, this may be less of a subtle distinction than it at first appears.
The question is, though, which of these two vantage points evokes a better overall haiku experience for any reader? At this point the serpent bites it's tail. Sometimes this, sometimes that; being my occasional quandry with this little fellow. I think it may depend on mood. Generally, though, I tend to favour the original version. The one with the a and the a. It's simpler and more plain, it seems to me, and in keeping with that spaced out unity we enjoy in those fleeting moments of bright and cherished clarity. (The latter experience also being a part of this haiku's liminal intent.)
Now we move back to the start . . .
The first is that a member 'saw' a field of flax from the unqualified trigger of the third line: 'into a field'. This 'reader's choice' option of filling in the blanks was one of the haiku decisions that I felt this particular experiential haiku needed in order to maintain its emotional atmosphere of 'disinterested observation'. This ambiguity seems to have worked its magic.
My second response is that when reading this haiku in retrospect I tend to see a field of grass responding as sensitively as water to the traveling wind. However, during the original event the field in question was actually a ploughed one. Its corrugated 'ripples' inspired the 'into a field' haiku's genesis.
And explore deeper . . .
You're right. For publication purposes we all need to remember that we serve our readership as well as our perceived truth. If a haiku is too ambiguous ('into a field') this could place a demand on the average reader's attention which may exceed supply. Not good for ticket sales. Maybe in our private journals, and amongst haiku cognoscenti, we can present the more demanding redactions and versions. Even then I'd expect the for's and against's to make their stands.
Deeper . . .
Yes, there's many ways to skin a cat. So far we have two versions of this 'summer breeze' haiku. The first is probably the best, from an ongoing experience point of view, as it allows us to muse over the type of field. It also exhibits 'karumi', you know, that lightness of touch which Basho was all for towards the end of his distinguished career. Whereas the second version is fixed in stone, so to say, but more immediate and accessible to the average reader because of this. It's of interest, too, because of the surrealist implications.
Where's the bottom?
As for the 'ploughed field' haiku, the one virtually videoed from an actual event. I'd say it was airport reading for the general public; in the sense of fast-food. You know, an easy read for the speeding mind. Glossy magazine, tabloid eye-catcher fodder. The idea of a breeze rippling the soil into apparent waves of earth, into some frozen ancient oceanic form, must, surely, be a common perception - thus easily recognisable, perhaps, and enjoyed for its familiar oddness. To be honest, it was my first take. Then I opened it up by ommission of 'ploughed' as that seemed cumbersome. However, as a result of the discussions so far on this thread, I'm liking 'em both - though the lighter version is probably my darling.
Ah . . .
The lite version of 'summer breeze' (no 'field' qualifier) seems to evoke different possibilities for the field's contents. (For example; flax and grass have been mentioned.) I suspect more people would surmise their own versions; based, initially, on personal memory. These insertions may change as we ponder deeper into the haiku's matrix, as we peel back layer after layer on our journey into meaning. Which, as you know, is part of the fun and enlightenment of haiku - uniquely, as some may insist.
For example; from the real-time event of 'ploughed field', I was moved to substitute 'grass', in my mind. I enjoyed the lightness of the effect - the grass's ripple being as light as the pond water's ripple. However, as we have learned, the qualifier was dropped to enablie any reader to fill in their own gap, if they so wished, and according to their own delight. Audience participation! Similar, in a way, to those brush drawings of misty mountains, you know, where the viewer is invited to participate in the mystery. And so, you've substituted/inserted 'aspens' (a pretty image). Another reader may substitute wheat... and so it goes.
As an aside; the reason I favour grass, personally, is this: not only is grass as rippleable as water, in effect, but also grass has a low vertical profile, being just a bit higher up to heaven than the pond - high enough to ripple though!
jp