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

down the staircase -
a shadow

whispering in the alley
her children asleep upstairs

summer moon
the mosquitoes

book left by the pool

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

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

© 2003 Leslye Layne Russell, Paul David Mena,
and Gary Warner

This renga was published in the June 2003
issue of Lynx.

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