Poets Joshua St. Claire and Amber Winter weave together a collaborative duet, offering a traditional kasen renga with “Out Into the Light”. This unique poem is an enthralling experience, fascinating in form as well as in the seemingly-self-contained imagery that blooms within each stanza. The poets explained to The Dewdrop, “The renga is an ancient Japanese poetry form (ancestral to the haiku), heavily steeped in Buddhist philosophy. Each of its 36 verses, except the first and last, links to the prior verse and shifts away from all prior verses. Certain verses are traditionally associated with the seasons, love, the moon, and blossoms—each encouraging us to consider these things from a fresh perspective. This linking and shifting gives the effect of an extended meditation on impermanence of beauty and the interconnection of all things.” They concluded, “We followed most of Basho’s rules here—except for syllable counts (which Basho himself wasn’t too strict with anyway).”
Out Into the Light
Appalachian sunrise
a grizzly coaxes her cubs
out into the light
tranquil hike to the waterfall
he reflects on rocky paths
deep below their feet
an aquifer holds the rain
of ages past
swollen ankles
she orders diet soda
falling leaves
a waning moon
grows enormous
acres of fertile fields
he oils the blades of the combine
rusty derrick
a marbled orb weaver
catches a breeze
rolling his shooter
he knocks his own out of the ring
after the storm
the pine tree we planted
snapped in two
hours of boiling down the sap
finally the root cause is clear
her loupe reveals
a hidden world
emerald jardin
colors of sadness and envy
streaked through the cheerleader’s ponytail
an eastern cottontail
passes through dappled shadow
Lynx Moon
time marching in the clouds
rabbit changes to a dragon
piles of patents
Albert puts them aside
to work up equations
magazine stacks outside the door
a skeptical knock goes unanswered
blooming and ripening
for no one in particular
cemetery plums
trying to be sweet
she bakes her new friend a tart
molasses and honey
sisters braid each other’s hair
forever intertwined
magnetic lines of force
twisted around an electrode
pushed against the wall
our steam turns dinner
to smoke
watching her watching me
puff on a cigar
snow day
arms folded on the windowsill
praying it doesn’t let up
the north wind carves the drifts
into fractal zastrugi
trip with the girls
my ear muffs blocking more than
blustery city streets
beneath the concrete
rich, dark soil
wet cement
boy giggles as his finger
cuts in
“I wasn’t able to get it all”
the oncologist meets my gaze
staring contest
scarecrow beats the jack-o’-lantern
Frost Moon
migrating birds
just a few bits of straw
running off our chins
the juice of persimmons
sweetened by the cold
seeing his lips moving
not understanding any of it
mentioning the password
at the speakeasy door
“Chattahoochee”
knowing she shouldn’t
she pours out the last drops of wine
spring squall
the apricot blossoms
resist
expanding their palates
dad seasons the asparagus

Joshua St. Claire & Amber Winter
Joshua St. Claire is an accountant who works as a financial executive for a large non-profit in rural Pennsylvania. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Lana Turner, Modern Haiku, Blue Unicorn, Delmarva Review, and Ligeia Magazine, among others. He is Pushcart Prize, Rhysling Award and Best of the Net nominee. His work has appeared in the Dwarf Stars Anthology and he is the winner of the Gerald Brady Memorial Senryu Award.
Amber Winter is a married mother of three boys. She is a trained meat cutter, cosmetologist and formerly worked in finance. She enjoys passing time at the playgrounds writing poetry while her boys run out their energy. Her poetry had been published in Failed Haiku, cattails, Ribbons, tsuri-doro, Prune Juice, and Star*line. She is a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Rhysling nominee.
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