blunders across a pair of painted tulips
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.
bindweed’s heart-shaped leaves
the two goldenrod stalks topple together
ornamental cherry
now that it’s dead it can shine all year long
wingstem
the buzzing gets louder every time the wind blows
fresh paint
a butterfly lands on the ladder to have a taste
luna moth
its enormous antennae attract a harvestman
a forest glade
gracile stalks bending under the weight of seeds
I’m that yokel
staring as vacantly as I can at your one-way glass
false solomon’s seal
acts like it doesn’t even know the shadowy leaves
leafprint in concrete
I wouldn’t have hesitated to step on the real thing
shadblow
blossoms lost to the heat in just four days
hepatica
springing through an old fern leaf art deco stamens
