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, that is absolutely delightful. Looks like a moss-pod convention. That big clump sitting up by the tree is saying “Are prayers have been answered!” (they figure you must be god, since any thing that can just flit from here to there has magical powers. They also figure the dry spell was your doing, cause god has charge of the spigot.). The other two on the side are arguing over whether to tell you that last slick rock you brought home (that you are so proud of) sucks. no rough spots to get a toe-hold. They plan to ask if you can rough it up a bit, after you get over your infatuation with how smooth and shiny it is.
It’s really nice…
Somehow stunning. I never would have composed this. Wow.