the flapping of an unknown bird
fills the spruce with shadows
Published by Dave Bonta
I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. My books of poetry include FAILED STATE: HAIBUN, ICE MOUNTAIN: AN ELEGY, BREAKDOWN: BANJO POEMS, and ODES TO TOOLS.
View all posts by Dave Bonta
Dave, I hadn’t known what a woodrat was, nor that we’ve got ’em, and that they’re most certainly the makers of those mysterious deltas of sticks and debris that flow out of rocky outcrop cave-lets. I’ll be!