Thursday, 10 December 2020

Re: [pacifi-kana] We will miss her: Winona Baker (1924 - 2020) by Vicki McCullough


 


Winona Baker, beloved elder and exemplary haiku poet, died at home on October 23, 2020, at 96. Condolences go out to the Baker family, among them Winona’s daughter, haiku poet Helen Baker. 

 

A life-long crafter of words, Winona also loved the society of writers. Many of us in the haiku community were fortunate to spend time with her, most commonly at the former Gabriola Haiku Gathering, which took place a short ferry ride from her home in Nanaimo, BC. But Winona’s achievements in haiku also took her as far away as Toronto, Romania and Japan. In Yamagata, Japan, in 1989, she was awarded the Foreign Minister’s Prize in a contest marking the 300th anniversary of the journey Basho chronicled in The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Her winning haiku:

 

moss-hung trees

a deer moves into

the hunter’s silence

 

Winona’s poetry, published worldwide, has appeared in more than 70 anthologies. Her publications include four books of haiku and senryu: Clouds Empty Themselves: Island Haiku (1991), Moss-Hung Trees: Haiku of the West Coast (1992), Even a Stone Breathes (2000), and Nature Here Is Half Japanese (2010). Winona’s writing life and accomplishments have been documented most recently in Moonflowers: Pioneering Women Haiku Poets in Canada (2020).

 

Here are a few more of Winona’s haiku . . .

 

old pond—

frog’s eggs float

in my reflection

 

fourteen photos hang

over bouquets of flowers

propped in drifted snow

[December 6 is the anniversary of the massacre, by a man, of 14 women engineering students at the École Polytechnique in Montreal in 1989.]

 

prize sweet peas

where the outhouse was emptied

last spring

 

summer trail

a trashed car in the salal

rusting in peace

 

hike in falling leaves

the happiness

in the setter’s tail

 

he brings in the cold

a perfect snowflake melts

in his dark hair

 

Christmas card list—

so many names

crossed out

 

in the stubble

a ball of blue wool

unwinds in the wind

 

a dark path

in the graveyard

ends in a snowman

 

river

     carries light

                       to the sea

 

 

===========

Vicki McCullough

 


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