Haiku 366-118 to 138

Yeah, been a while. Though the haiku-writing proceeds, the blog-updating does not. Darn that adulting stuff.

Haiku 366-118 (4/26/16)

the day before
turning sixty-four
not the new forty

Haiku 366-119 (4/27/16)

loved song on first hearing
would never apply
when I’m sixty-four

Haiku 366-120 (4/28/16)

five-year-old’s birthday wishes
a day late
but never short

Haiku 366-121 (4/29/16)

writing alone
writing with friends
writing

Haiku 366-122 (4/30/16)

why is it so hard
to understand
black lives matter

Haiku 366-123 (5/1/16)

new year just arrived
but May is upon us
time flies

Haiku 366-124 (5/2/16)

Today’s irony was while on my way to the repair shop to have my aging Mercedes’ air conditioning fixed, I got rear-ended stopped for a stop sign. The man who hit me was ninety-five. And a nice man who reminded me of what my father may have been like had he lived. I felt worse for him than for my wounded Meredith Mercedes, who in car-years is probably equivalent to ninety-five.

when I’m ninety-five
should I drive
Meredith’s bumper hopes not

Haiku 366-125 (5/3/16)

day begins with voting
continues with young writers
perfect day ends

Haiku 366-126 (5/4/16)

adulting makes
unreasonable demands
highly over-rated

Haiku 366-127 (5/5/16)

One year ago today I got caught up in my neighbor’s personal tragedy, and there wasn’t a Tuesday (the weekday it happened) in the past year when I didn’t remember it. I wrote about it here a few days after it happened, and everything about today brought it back. My neighbor, who survived being shot, left for the week. I don’t blame him. I should have considered it myself.

time heals wounds
doesn’t let you forget
tragic anniversary

Haiku 366-128 (5/6/16)

Today I learned that the best boss I ever worked for, the one who took a chance on me and gave me the job as his chief of staff, lost his cancer battle. In 2009, he was told he had a few months to live, and he simply wouldn’t accept it. “I have too many things to do,” he said. After a highly experimental and somewhat risky procedure, he was cancer-free beyond the magic five-year interval. But cancer, evil soul-sucker that it is, had its way. RIP, James J. Ballough.

given four months
he lived for seven years
worth the risk

Haiku 366-129 (5/7/16)

working or retired
meetings are endured
take me away

Haiku 366-130 (5/8/16)

a day to celebrate
mothers leaves me cold
as she did

Haiku 366-131 (5/9/16)

more adulting
when I’d rather be
writing

Haiku 366-132 (5/10/16)

sometimes PhotoShop
is not my friend
even in low places

Haiku 366-133 (5/11/16)

thirteenth day of rain
makes you forget the sun
no arks yet

Haiku 366-134 (5/12/16)

sun teases
and retreats from rain
what are cubits anyway?

Haiku 366-135 (5/13/16)

Triskaidekaphobia
a better excuse than
black cats

Haiku 366-136 (5/14/16)

sanding is a skill
I haven’t forgotten
why not

Haiku 366-137 (5/15/16)

Pressure-washing
erases only the footsteps
the feet walk on

Haiku 366-138 (5/16/16)

mid-spring frost warnings
chill the flowers
Sinead O’Conner the heart

As of this writing, Irish singer-songwriter Sinead O’Connor is missing in a suburb of Chicago, Illinois, and police are “concerned for her well-being.”

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