on the fogged-up window to view the sunrise
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.
groundhog
plowing through brambles spots me through the glass
damp with snowmelt
the oak log’s colors are so bright I have to touch
mares’ tails
a sharp-shinned hawk cuts through my trance
rain beads
on each numbered leaf in the study group
inside the deer fence
the 200-year-old white oak isn’t stirring
witch hazel clump
collects enough leaves to make its own woods
ground pines
craters have melted around their torch-shaped cones
dead locust bark
alive with color in between the cracks
bone-white sticks
trapped in the cross-hatch foliage new blue ice
green ice
caps the vernal pond it’s January
jade plant leaves
glow their brightest in the low winter light
