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.
monarch caterpillar
there is no milkweed but milkweed
weeds at winter’s end
a few still manage to stand upright
snowy field
the milkweed’s silk has frozen in mid-spill
in the snow
under an impaled rag of a leaf something squeaks
winter barn
a faint smell of summer through an open door
white barn in winter
a wind-chapped look where the old red bleeds through
snow so deep
any arrangement of sticks seems significant
moon in eclipse
I remember every place I’ve seen that ember
snow squall
only the H is still visible on the No Hunting sign
locust leaves
on the flat black roof haloed in dew
snow-bound woods
root hairs on a toppled tree are the only gossamer
