This entry is part 26 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses


Having melted the snow above it,
a black stone glistens
in its pit.

All thaws seem abrupt.
Lichens slicked with meltwater
glow a lurid green.

I’m feverish—might I, too,
burn a hole
clear through to spring?

Series Navigation← Snow folliesReanimation →
Posted in ,

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. For what it’s worth, I see that this is the sixth post titled “Thaw” at Via Negativa; Luisa and I have now each written three posts with that title. It’s just a good word, I guess.


    1. Oh good! And I seem to be on the upswing now, so probably today’s effort won’t be as inadvertently inspired.


  2. This is outstanding. Fever so often produces great poems – but I hope you’ll soon be well.


    1. Thanks! I am definitely on the mend now. I’m glad I run low fevers, actually. My mom doesn’t, and her colds last twice as long.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.