A hollow hemlock

Posted on August 22, 2009 by Dave Bonta

tree spirit

A hollow hemlock:
peering out is more fun
than peering in.

*

I start looking
for a kite string –
the motionless vulture.

*

Thursday’s hurricane
sings softly
in my screen door.

*

The house he grew up in
long vanished,
he brings a lawn chair.

daddy longlegs

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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11 Responses to A hollow hemlock

  1. lucas says:
    August 23, 2009 at 9:48 am

    That vulture is great, man.

    And the photo’s superb.

  2. Ted Simkins says:
    August 23, 2009 at 11:31 am

    I especially like the third for its calm local view at something extraordinary. Northeasterners often forget how sheltered and safe we are. Wish the same could be said for the man-made phenomena.

  3. Bill says:
    August 23, 2009 at 1:04 pm

    Wild dreams last night. A scuffle below me, in tree-tops along a wall of a cliff. A huge, fat raccoon tumbles from the leaves. It drops toward a distant plain, where houses are tiny. It goes spread-eagle and I plainly see that it has skin flaps like a flying squirrel. I begin to think it will survive the fall. As it grows smaller I notice there’s a thread trailing from it which arcs up to where I sit near the cliff’s edge. Something comes alive in my hand. It’s a spool of line hissing, tugging.

  4. Mark says:
    August 23, 2009 at 2:41 pm

    My favorite is the last one…

    • Dave says:
      August 24, 2009 at 12:55 am

      Oh yeah? I was thinking of this old guy who sometimes sits with his wife down at our railroad crossing. Grew up in a shack a few feet from the tracks and says he finds the thunder of passing trains to be the most restful thing in the world.

      • Mark says:
        August 24, 2009 at 8:07 am

        Having lived near railroad tracks at various points in my life, I can certainly understand that feeling.

        What that particular haiku said to me was the man didn’t need the physical trappings to relish his memories. Proximity was more than enough.

  5. dale says:
    August 23, 2009 at 6:43 pm

    Sigh. I wish I could write haiku.