Long Way Home
A Winter Renga (in Winter Renga Form) by:
Paul David Mena, Layne Russell, and Gary Warner
a dusting of snow
footprints disappear
into the woods
from white fir boughs
a lone blue jay squawks
passing the drunk
grandfather drops a five
and keeps walking
the market plummets –
I crave a bitter ale
out the east window
large yellow moon…
shoes fall to the floor
raindrops on the glass
school bus steals her baby
under the wiper blade
two bright red leaves
and a parking ticket
after the movies
at last a kiss
waiting at the gate
in her best dress
last flight from Houston
falling in love
with another stewardess
footsteps
down the staircase –
a shadow
whispering in the alley
her children asleep upstairs
summer moon
ignoring
the mosquitoes
splash!
book left by the pool
awakened
by dripping candle wax
at my desk
following a pair of headlights
along a distant highway
by the front door
purple primroses…
someone’s key
the doe with two fawns
lingers behind the rest
a father’s dream
my son is old enough
to mow the lawn
waking at dawn
got to write this one down
crumpled printouts
and crushed Mountain Dew cans
beside my keyboard
scraping my windshield
with an expired credit card
through the drifts
to see the iced stream
hit by sunlight
leather driving gloves lying
on the newspaper rack
her stiletto heels
keeping pace
with my heartbeat
packing for the weekend
perfume and lace
searching
the tangled sheets
in the darkness
eyes illuminated
by the Disney Channel
river evening –
the Empress tree
crowned by the moon
gourds and squash
arranged as a centerpiece
Thanksgiving dinner –
the dog on high alert
beneath the table
sky of calling crows –
what’s the ruckus?
power failure
around the theater
the glow of cell phones
microwave popcorn –
that fake butter smell
almond blossoms
cover the garden plot
daffodils stand guard
pausing on the bike trail
everything so green