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  • Thursday September 08, 2016

Thursday September 08, 2016

Dave Bonta September 8, 2016

The scattered creaks of red-winged blackbirds off in the woods. A mosquito wanders over my shirt, testing the fabric with her frail drill.

Posted in Plummer's Hollow
Tagged mosquito, red-winged blackbird
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On this date

    January 21, 2019

    The wind has died; it's zero. Through my balaclava and hood I can hear the excited chirps of juncos on the plowed road foraging for grit. …

    January 21, 2018

    Low, gray clouds, and the ground half-brown after a day and night of melting. Over the rumble of my furnace I hear a screech owl trilling. …

    January 21, 2017

    Fog like a soundproof room. As always, the dead cherry's five splayed stumps are giving the middle finger to the road—to whatever comes. …

    January 21, 2015

    As the predicted snow begins, my parents' bird feeders grow loud with chittering. An eddy of wind carries the distant snarl of a chainsaw. …

    January 21, 2014

    One squirrel doggedly trails another through the falling snow. A third joins in and it becomes a high-speed chase, full of yelps and whines. …

    January 21, 2013

    A slow snow. I love that brief period before the walk is completely buried: the random mottling, the impression of a great, anonymous crowd. …

    January 21, 2012

    Fresh, deep snow on all the outstretched branches at the woods' edge—those trees that have always hungered for an extra helping of light. …

    January 21, 2011

    Juncos fill the lilac, nearest cover to an unfrozen section of stream. Five or six at a time they flutter down to drink from the dark water. …

    January 21, 2010

    How is it the stars, glittering as brightly as I've ever seen them, can begin to fade before the first perceptible lightening of the sky? …

    January 21, 2009

    A gray squirrel sits motionless for several minutes on the topmost crook of a fallen limb. Then like a diver it plunges into the snow. …

    January 21, 2008

    Very cold, clear and still. My last dream before waking was of hummingbirds, and the trees at sunset shimmering with caterpillar tents. …

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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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