The spruce grove
at the top of the hollow
harbors a north-woods chill.
Seated on a runner sled
I hurtle down into
the sunlit field,
my shadow like a witching rod
stretched out before me,
alive to every bump and dip.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International 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).