The remains of the cold


The fever & the cold
are odd bedfellows.
Even goldfinches turn down the heat
during their autumn molt.

remains of the cold

I lie fallow, letting bloom
a virus that slipped in
under cover of affection
& now withers in the ditch.

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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).


    1. Yeah! (Though I suppose some would say if I spent a little more time around kids, I’d build up more immunities and holidays wouldn’t present such a crisis.)


  1. “Bedfellows” works on fine levels. Nice pairing of pics here — the colors, the shadows, the shapes & objects.

    Reading this after a student presented me with Frost’s “Fire and Ice” today as her recital choice. Fevers and colds only feel like the end of the world. (At least to me, and I have a sinus infection, far preferable to a virus.) May your virus continue to wither but in some other ditch.


    1. I was thinking about that Frost poem the other day, wondering how it would be read in volcanic Iceland. “You mean we get to choose?!”


  2. Ach… you too? Sorry. January always seems to open the door to some virus or another. I’m feeling crappy today. Hacking cough.


    1. I’m actually feeling almost well today, knock wood. Hope you have a similarly speedy recovery, Luisa.


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