Walking onions

Dave BontaContemplative

The phoebes across the road carry beakfuls of mud into their nest.

Planting onions, my thumb- and fingernails harvest black crescents.

This summer while I’m gone, the walking onions will re-plant themselves, head-down in the dirt.

Dave Bonta

Learn by heart: tap a gap

The across the road
carry of mud
Open the trainer

Keep going on the web or in the app.

Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.