8/6/2021 – a haiku

So much yet to do
And little time to do it
Therein lies the rub

8/5/2021

Why does the gull cry?
Why does it make the choice?
Why sail across the open sky
And raise so high its voice?

When you took my heart
I knew within my soul
This was cosmic art
And I would be whole.

I see no honor
In building mountainous wealth;
When Earth is so rich

Such life there is for the taking
If one can but rise

I once walked across
A broken tree
Whose boughs sagged low
Whose leaves wilted
Weak in the breeze

I asked the tree what it needed
And though it did not answer
Its leaves grew greener
Its boughs rose, if only a little
To be asked such a thing

Alas that time is fleeting
That moments pass us by
That each and every meeting
Is gone soon as it’s nigh

I see the bottom of my cup
The dregs are swirling there
Remains of wine I’ve else lapped up
Breathed in as if ’twere air

And though I’m feeling rather ill
And wish to sit down, too
I am not unglad to be still
Deep in my cups with you!

A line in your hands
The wind pulling strong against
Ah, to raise a sail

A whistling craving
Barrels down the mountain loud
And into my ears