The feeling that something is about to happen, out here where nothing ever happens… or so the city folk say. It’s the cast of light, I think: a mid-afternoon in mud season. Or my cast of mind as we plunge into a new Cold War.
bare ground again— game cams facing this way and that
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.
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that waiting time, I think, Dave. In-between seasons, in-between years and all the rest. I think all of us are feeling that right now. I don’t comment often, but I read your morning words all the time.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I think you’re right.