Gyōdai wrote a very simple, yet effective autumn hokku:
Here and there,
In those few words we see the mountains colored with autumn, and from hidden places in the hills, small plumes of smoke rise up.
There is a harmony of feeling between the autumn hills and the smoke. We see humans (or rather we do not see them, but feel them through the smoke) not as apart from Nature, but as a part of it.
This is a kind of variant on the “big to small” technique, in which we first experience the wider picture, and then we focus in on a smaller detail. Here the mountains are the “big” element, and the smoke rising here and there is the more detailed “small” focus — though of course really it is all seen as a whole. But for compositional purposes, that might be a helpful way to see this verse.
In hokku we tend not to express emotions for themselves, though sometimes we find simple descriptive words like “sadness” or “loneliness.” Often what we find, rather, is an event that arouses a certain emotion in us.
Shiki — that writer from around the end of the 19th century — kept the old form and connection of hokku with Nature in most of his verses, even though he used a different name for them. Here is an autumn verse by him:
The light in the next room
Also goes out;
The cold night.
In this successive extinguishing of light we feel the fading of Yang energy, and in the cold darkness that remains after the light is gone, we feel the increased Yin energy of late autumn. You will recall that Yang energy is bright and active and warm, while Yin is dark and passive and cold. This extinguishing of the last light, makes the sudden awareness of cold even more intense, and the consequence is that the verse arouses an emotion in us — a kind of loneliness. That feeling is also akin to autumn — the time when things wither and fade, and the nights grow longer and colder.