Haiku Challenge, Part Three

Here are the last of my haiku for this April challenge. With that, the thirty-day challenge is complete. Maybe I'll continue with weekly haiku, but no promises!

April 23 - a weakness

A leaning tree will someday fall. Without support, you will break as well.

April 24 - a hope you have for your life I changed one word in this, from what I posted on Instagram, where "might" was "will." I also decided to capitalize "She." Big changes, I know.

@HumanHaiku shared this one (the original version, of course).

I don’t expect great things, but hope people might say, “She was always kind.”

April 25 - something you miss In the summer, we kids would gather at the Banks’s, to play roundsies in their front yard. This was a version of kickball, in which players rotated through the fielding positions and the kicking position. It was ideal since we never could muster enough players to field two teams. It was also disorganized and chaotic, and was, according to Mom, the reason Gene Banks gave up on trying to grow a decent lawn.

The evening game was for fathers, and our older brothers. In reality, this probably happened just once, but it looms large in my memory. I remember cheers for a good hit, and discussions of the latest Pirates game. I remember my father drinking from a bottle of beer, a rarity. I remember showing my mom, and Marge Banks, that I’d figured out how to tie my shoes. It's all a fond memory, a small bit of neighborhood community.

Summer days were for kickball. Nights were for baseball, for watching our dads.

April 26 - anger

This is the version I submitted:

I soon regret my angry words. Can I instead learn to practice peace?

But I prefer this version, with its slight modification; the words (intonation? emphasis?) sound better to my ears.

I soon regret my angry words. Can I learn to practice peace instead?

April 27 - something that delights you

The trees are spring green with buds, tiny promises of splendor and joy.

Spring green in one of our trees

April 28 - a hard thing you're going through

I weigh my struggles; against the world’s challenges, mine appear so small.

April 29 - peace
I was not happy with this, but it was late in the day, so I called it done, even though I cringe every time I read it.

The world can’t promise peace; for that, we must turn to  a higher power.

April 30 - who you are as a human, now 
I wrote so many versions of this! I had woken in a bad mood, and the haiku reflected that, ha ha. I finally came up with this, which was not as dramatically dark as the others.

Can an old dog learn new tricks? I think so; with age come new adventures

Our Bernie, enjoying his adventures