Usurped holiday
The celebration of which
Looks rather pagan

A screaming guitar
The thunderous crash of drums
Music to my ears

Life is strange sometimes
Many days pass so slowly
Yet the years fly by

Early this morning
The sun crossed the equator
I can has spring now?

Delicate blossoms
Fall softly upon the ground
Spring's fragrant blanket

Cast adrift by fate
I chance upon an island
Full of cannibals

This space often holds a haiku
But change on occasion is due
So raise up a whisky
And get a bit frisky
Today we can be Irish, too

About those taxes
I wound up not doing them
I need a weekend

I can think of things
That I'd rather be doing
But tax day's coming

It's Friday at last
The weekend will begin soon
I could sure use one