shoes dangle by their laces
where we used to climb
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
2 Comments
Gorgeous. Such a web of branches to catch, too, or ensnare.
Gorgeous. Such a web of branches to catch, too, or ensnare.
Nothing –
But the forest
The white snowy forest
The snow that hugs
The trees that wait
They can tell you what happened