Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
A split in the pavement where vehicles enter the overpass: from underneath, next to the tracks, it sounds like a heartbeat. Thump-thump. Soil in which nothing has sprouted in 35 years. The once-a-day Amtrak gathering speed, faces hidden behind tinted glass, & the blinking tail light disappearing around the bend. Thump-thump.
I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. Here’s a bio. All of my writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, my name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact me for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
A striking shift of location from the outback to the overpass. I wonder what epiphanies might have resulted from a surprise confrontation with that graffito.
I don’t know. Fortunately, my quick reflex action with the camera was able to ward off any stray moment of reflection it otherwise might’ve prompted in me.
I love this for more reasons than I can count, not the least of which being I know that thump-thump well.
Really? Cool! This just goes to show I ought to post something everyday no matter what. You never know what’s going to resonate with whom.
I’m with Lorianne. I think your internet break has done great things for you.
Well, I wouldn’t have snapped that picture if I hadn’t walked in town to use my bro’s computer.
Fine. I won’t.
Good.