Deep snow

Dave BontaContemplative

In all this blankness, a squirrel finds the precise spot it buried a nut.

Breaking trail with snowshoes, I choose to believe I’m half-floating, not half-sinking.

Clumps of snow sail off the trees, making a random scatter of oblong prints.

Dave Bonta

Learn by heart: tap a gap

In all this ,
a finds the precise spot
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