I remember every place I’ve seen that ember
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.
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
snowy right-of-way
weed stalks stipple the mountain laurel’s shadow
drifted snow
a doe follows the bootprints as far as she can
a still child
only her eyes keep dancing
where the snow has melted
the mountain’s true skin slick & glistening
far below freezing
the pond ice grows a quilt of downy hoarfrost
free of its seeds
the dried wild mustard looks ready for anything
icy meadow
dried seedheads get to bloom a second time
white with rime
the locust sapling looks electric beside the bowed spruce
