The curse of our time: Cellular stupidity. Can you hear me now?

Answering machine. You might have something to say When you hear the beep. Those who have my home phone number know that this has been my actual answering machine message for over a year.

Got to get going! Only ninety days remain To pen forty more. (I'd reached the halfway mark for eighty haiku; I must have written this sometime in November 2011.)

9/11, I . . . (Do I have survivor's guilt?) . . . worked a normal day.

six 7/8 schlemiel schlemazel It's an instrumental, too.

Unstoppable thief, Never aware of our needs, Time flows on and on.

(instrumental)

"Warren, line three, please." Annoying public address. (He's a busy man.)

Antidisestab- lishmentarism: too many sylla- (bles?)

The coals are red-hot, Yellow kernels a-roasting, Three ears are ready.

The coals are red-hot, Nag champa incense burning, Cherry Coke in hand.

Roasting on one side, Freezing on the other side: The joy of campfires.

Sunlight streaming down. Gentle breeze disturbs new leaves. Spring's awakenings.

My groping hand shoved Away once more from delight: Supple joys denied.

Raking on Sunday: Leaves observe no one's Sabbath; Neither, then, shall I.

Aeolean muse, Sing to me your dulcet tones: Windchimes in autumn. (I actually heard the first three notes of this piece on my windchimes and the whole thing unfolded from there.)

Pungent aroma, Skunk versus car, skunk loses. Mommy won't come home.

Sundays in the park: Drumming, traffic, sweet birdsong, Lovely car alarms.

First day of April: I have played so many tricks. Who is the fool now?

New swallow's lessons: "Before you learn how to crawl, you must learn to fly." I learned after writing this that swallows DO actually crawl around in the nest before they take the plunge. Oh well. You learn something new every day.