Six Tan-renga with Paul O. Williams

the parking lot

crowded on this crisp day—

with sea gulls Paul O. Williams

        a dropped receipt

        spins in the wind Michael Dylan Welch

        ~     ~     ~

a kite flown

from the pier weaves

among the sea gulls Paul O. Williams

        by her anchored fishing pole

        señorita stops her knitting Michael Dylan Welch

        ~     ~     ~

out in the garden

cleaned up for spring—

me and the spiders Paul O. Williams

        the spigot now rusty

        that dripped into her begonias Michael Dylan Welch

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a winter morning—

at six-thirty in the rain

chickens out scratching Paul O. Williams

        but for one at rest

        under a wheelbarrow Michael Dylan Welch

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passing the scarecrow

the homeless man seems jealous

of his job Paul O. Williams

        porcupine quills

        in the lost dog’s nose Michael Dylan Welch

        ~     ~     ~

the sunlit fountain—

the endless, varied games

falling water plays Paul O. Williams

        my palms chafed

        holding crutches Michael Dylan Welch