Bearings

Posted on November 10, 2008 by Dave Bonta

I took my bearings from
a tattered map taped to a lamppost
turned left at the inside-out umbrella
propped against a dumpster
& continued straight past
the strip malls
& the self-storage units

until I reached open ground
contoured with corn stubble
a crow on pond ice
the blue trees of distance

I walked into the wind
sleet stinging my face
& shook my head at every driver
who pulled alongside & gestured to get in
this was where I’d been going
I was looking for a reason
to turn back

About Dave Bonta

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with one quadrillion of his closest microbial friends --- a tight-knit, symbiotic community comprising some 500 different species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa.
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5 Responses to Bearings

  1. dale says:
    November 10, 2008 at 6:05 pm

    This is haunting.

  2. marja-leena says:
    November 10, 2008 at 9:23 pm

    Haunting, yes. And with that spot of beauty in ‘the blue trees of distance’.

  3. Paul says:
    November 10, 2008 at 11:46 pm

    That’s a really well made gentle thought poem. It reads lovely out loud, great sounds a walking like rhythm.

  4. christine says:
    November 11, 2008 at 10:04 pm

    This one makes me smile. I love how close to the things and the lay of the land the narrator is.

  5. Dave says:
    November 12, 2008 at 9:40 am

    Thanks — I’m glad this resonated with y’all. I tend to think that understatement is the only way to approach this kind of subject.