On the sunlit field
The first touch of brown appears
On the blades of grass
The sound of a dog scratching
At the fleas by its collar
Sorting through the bills,
Trying to prioritize,
Which one gets paid first?
Leaves lie thickly on the ground
After yesterday's windstorm
She asks her best friend,
"I don't like it when he shouts.
So, what would you do?"
A crack in a large boulder
Impercpetibly widens
It's filled with moonlight
In the frigid and clear air
Two friends walk briskly
T.G.I.F. at the bar,
Time for outrageous stories
Editorials
(Or is it propaganda?)
With the morning news
The Senate didn't notice
But the plums bloomed anyway
Behind the houses,
Leading away from the town,
Lots of raccoon tracks
He chooses a memory
From the forest of his past
2 comments:
I love these Renga compositions!
Thank you for your kind post.
Jim
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