Deciding to board a boat down the Mogami River, we went to a place called Oishida and awaited fair weather. During the delay, someone from the area told us, "the seeds of haikai sown in this place long ago continue to grow, but we cannot forget how the art flowered here in former times and long for such success again. Minds as simple as ours could use instruction in an art more elegant than our piping on reed flutes. As far as understanding the central principles of this art are concerned, we grope along with out feet, losing our way between new ways and old. We are guideless and perplexed. We certainly do not wish to let pass the opportunity given by your visit." They would not take no for an answer. We composed a sheaf of poems with them, leaving it behind. In such fashion my journey has allowed the style I practice to become known even in so remote an area as this.