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)