Strolling down the Allegheny Front on an old rail bed. A haibun.
Author: 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.
aerial bombardment
ice falling from the trees over here
coming storm
a stump-water pool
glassy with ice
first bifocals
the blurry line between
winter snd spring
Winter Forest
Visiting Dad’s grave yesterday, I had a strong sense of his absence amid the fundamental indifference of nature.
winter wind
porcupine napping
on the latrine
up
in a cold cloud
trees and all
Coyote Winter
When I stand up, I see the large coyote that’s been watching me—who knows for how long—from 50 feet away.
sunset moon
the downtrodden snow
ready to shine
long winter
shadows
of witness trees
Heart-Shaped Hole
Over the past year since St. Valentine betrayed me, I’ve shed four stone walking it off.
moonlight
on my bed
winter dreams
