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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

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  • Tuesday June 17, 2008

Tuesday June 17, 2008

Dave Bonta June 17, 2008

A catbird solos in the half-light while wood thrushes trade lines. Small white moths visit the dame’s-rocket. Today, a funeral and a picnic.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged catbird, dame's-rocket, moths, wood thrush
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On this date

    January 26, 2022

    Half a moon slowly floating to the top of the tall tulip poplar. The lights of a jet with its roar a quarter of the sky behind. …

    January 26, 2021

    Dawn. In the dim light, a pitter-patter of freezing rain slowly turns into the dry whisper of sleet, then the hush of snow — and back again. …

    January 26, 2019

    From under the house, rabbit tracks encircling a half-eaten raspberry cane, raccoon tracks going straight to the stream—muddy on the return. …

    January 26, 2018

    As the sunlight advances, the frosted yard turns from glitter to glisten. The barn-red cardinal's inexplicably cheerful two-note tune. …

    January 26, 2017

    The last trace of snow has gone again. The sky is blank. What kind of January is this? Trees rock back and forth like traumatized refugees. …

    January 26, 2015

    The snowstorm slows down just after daybreak, as if drawing its breath. I hear my mother on her back porch yelling at the squirrels. …

    January 26, 2014

    The snow shovel lies supine, fresh snow in its scoop. Wind-blown icicle drips dot the squirrel and rabbit tracks with random punctuation. …

    January 26, 2013

    This morning's stillness is made of fresh snow, a distant jet, the quiet squeaks of a downy woodpecker and a dove's whistling wings. …

    January 26, 2012

    Fog at daybreak, and a thin coat of sleet like coarse sand. From up in the woods, the sudden squealing of a squirrel fighting off a suitor. …

    January 26, 2011

    A distant quarry truck's reverse beeper has gone bad, and trills just like a digital alarm clock. Dueling chickadees tumble through the air. …

    January 26, 2010

    The ground is white again, a half-inch-thick pelt that must've formed in the small hours. The water's monologue continues at a lower key. …

    January 26, 2009

    Silhouetted against the snow, not one but two rabbits! Winter says: where much is hidden, much is also revealed. Ask the great-horned owls. …

    January 26, 2008

    It's snowing: single flakes at first, then more and more clumps, some asymmetric enough to spin or spiral—tiny leaves from a vast tree. …

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Related book

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.

What I do after I sit on the porch. One winter and spring's daily walks distilled into short poems with linocut illustrations by Beth Adams.

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