September 2016

September 2, 2016

Dave Bonta September 2, 2016

Cool and autumnal. In the overgrown garden, a faded spicebush swallowtail searches the faded orange cups of butterfly milkweed for a drink.

September 1, 2016

Dave Bonta September 1, 2016

A heavy sky, gravid with rain. In the town a mile and a half way, a fire siren—that hortatory wail. Then the ululations of the trucks.

January 14, 2024
Snow at first light—a silent mob of moving shadows, pecks on my cheek—then as dawn approaches, the slow differentiation of black and swirling white.
January 14, 2023
In the pre-dawn darkness, something is barking up on the ridge—a disconsolate sound, nearly inaudible over the bitter wind.
January 14, 2020
Cold and gloomy. A raven alights on a squirrel nest at the top of an oak near the woods’ edge and settles in for a…
January 14, 2019
Low sun on snow—even the shadows glitter. I’m feeling creaky, like the labored wingbeats of a dove starting up from the water.
January 14, 2018
Cold deep as the sky’s blue, but the creek still sings its thaw song. Each dead grass clump is a Mecca for the fragmentary trails…