four haiku with a tanka couplet
Old rock and country
play on the jukebox inside.
Song blends into song.
Men slouch at the bar,
vaguely watching the Astros.
Once, they were children.
The volleyball teams
serve, set, and sweat in the sun.
We watch from the shade.
Beneath the old oak,
I talk with friends over beer:
“Life is but a dream.”
The afternoon drifts like clouds;
seasons fold into seasons.
(April 24, 2022)
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