Lines for a wet summer

gravel piles

A wet summer.
At the entrance to the hollow,
twin peaks of gravel.

*

Storm-carved ruts
on the gravel driveway
fill up with hailstones.

*

damselfly

Blue damselflies
patrol the slow-moving waters
of the blueberry bog.

*

Done berry picking,
I wash the bog mud off my legs
with brown bog water.

*

Morning thunder,
then rain. “It’s just getting it out
of its system, right?”

*

An indoor picnic.
The child climbs the steep stairs
to the green room.

*

shirt window

In lieu of a curtain,
a checkered shirt catches
the evening sun.

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

8 Comments


  1. Ethan tells me it’s been mighty wet in western Massachusetts, too, over the weeks since I left town.

    The greenery in your photographs here amazes me. I’m going to be bowled over next week when I get back to the Berkshires. Seven weeks in the desert has changed my sense of light and color something fierce.

    Reply

  2. I admire the rhythm of these, Dave.
    Somehow it has the spirit of haiku, beyond form.
    And air becomes wind.

    Reply

  3. A beautiful string of haikus. And the poems are great, too.

    And I’m so relieved that even a man of your discernment owns one of those universal plastic deck chairs.

    ;-)

    J

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  4. Damselflies are murder to try to photograph. I bet you couldn’t get any closer than that!

    Reply

  5. My favorite here is:

    Done berry picking,
    I wash the bog mud off my legs
    with brown bog water.

    The alliteration is so neat and so unorthodox.

    Reply

  6. lovely particularly the last image and poem. very clever stuff.

    Reply

  7. Thanks for the comments.

    Rachel – Yeah, your eyes are gonna hurt for a while. Deserts are a real aesthetic pleasure for me. the few times I’ve visited them, I didnt want to leave. Fortunately, I like forests almost as much.

    SvenWaring – Glad you liked these. Rhythm is alost inescable with my stuff, regardless of the genre – I can’t help but be guided by it.

    Jarrett – The chair I sit in every morning while I drink my coffee is a plastic stack chair. Extremely comfortable. But ultimately disposable, because when they break, they can’t be repaired. So I suppose I should deplore them, shouldn’t I?

    CGP – Thanks. We’ve had wetter years, but it’s been a while.

    miguel – Yeah, I was frustrated that the clarity wasn’t there to feature this one on the photo blog, cuz I was so pleased with the composition.

    dale – That may be my favorite of the lot as well – and as usual with haiku, it was the easiest to write.

    lissa – Oh good, a vote for that one! That was my favorite of the photos, but I wasn’t sure if the haiku quite did it justice. Thanks.

    Reply

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