all the wild birds are scolding something in the hedge
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.
stripped of all focus
I don’t notice the hunter standing in a tree
October snow
I hold onto an apple core until it turns brown
blossoming witch hazel
I pound a stuck storm window with a Chinese dictionary
red-spotted newt
even on land it still steers with its tail
where it lost a limb
a glimpse of twisted heartwood mosquito in my ear
old bolete
gnats follow the branching cracks in its skin
first rain in weeks
the dry canyons in my moss garden disappear
night-blooming cereus
two spiders feed on a white moth
twinleaf
two missing petals but still an immaculate shadow
hepatica in bloom
I jangle the loose change in my pocket
first coltsfoot flowers
take aim at the overcast sky
