Segment of a Winter Renga

Winds cut through dry grass
and icy dewdrops shiver—
The wolf is alone.

The river of heaven gleams
above echoing laughter.

Men circle a fire
sloshing wine into their beards.
Wolf cries; smiles flicker.

In a village far away,
festivals pass uncounted.

The moon waxes, wanes;
leaves burn, fall, and fade to ash.
Hollow women sleep.

The cold wind steals away dreams
of half-forgotten faces.

The grain rots afield.
The ghosts of former evenings
shimmer in the wind.