I am pretty sure I was grumping a few weeks back about so many haiku (those originally composed as part of a larger work, dairies like Narrow Road etc.,) being published, anthologized again and again, without the prose passages that they cap. And here I go putting up a tanka from the Tosa Diary. One of my favorite tanka, one of my favorite diaries. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself.
Now that I see them
I come to understand myself.
Age-old the pines
And green upon the Sumi Inlet,
but I before them white with years.