This entry is part 16 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses


Opossum out at mid-day
on the glare ice
wipes its snout with its paws.

It’s digging through the crust
to reach food we’ve pitched—
old barbecue sauce, rotten cabbage—

inserting its head
as if through the shell
of a great white egg…

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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. I felt the weirdest tremble when I pushed a reluctant mare through a gate with all my might from behind, one hand on each of her hips, sort of like the way one kid shoves the other in line ahead of him. It was the icy snow that I felt in her bones. It could almost bear her weight and it collapsed in stages.


      1. Definitely inspired by your eggshell snow. I wanted to mention bruxing and biting down of a bit of eggshell that came with scrambled eggs might not be too dissimilar to the sensation I felt in my hand.


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