As Close As I Can: Rhyming Haiku Lament

She begs: “Take me to
It’ly!” I do. She then sits,
alone, with her phone.

Art Inspire Art: Haiku

Art inspires art when
I take time to read and feel.
Theirs moves my home views.

My self-pity haiku a week before Christmas:

When you tried hard to/

avoid “Cat’s in the Cradle”/

yet they’re distant? Weep.

When you miss the point
and argue minutiae, I’ll
avoid discussions.

A bough seems broken.
Does a weeping oak exist?
Because I now am.

Maybe I was the

small fish in a big pond, but

now I’m just flopping.

Why should I, having
been made partaker of the

Holy Gift, sorrow?

On a lonely field,

my neighbor’s light reminds me
of peace and the why.

We who talk to trees/

need to talk to humans, too,/

so wisdom is passed.

OR
so wisdom’s passed on.

Do we expect the/
Messiah to be* more than/
how we should change us?

OR
*do