Blue blood

Dave BontaDecember 30, 2016December 30, 2016epigrams and conundrums, forest, meadow, sky, water

A small stream flowing through the snowy edge of a meadow, reflecting the blue sky.

belongs only to those with no need for veins, like a wanderlust that starts where the highway ends.

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

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