The Morning Porch

March 6, 2009 by Dave Bonta

A long dark streak on the red maple beside the road: sap is rising. A crow at the top of the tallest pine hunkers down to deliver every caw.

June 16, 2025
An intensely green lushness makes an orphan out of the brown pile of juniper cuttings at the woods’ edge—last winter’s one spot of green. At 7:10, in the pouring rain, the first cicada starts up.
June 16, 2024
Cool and quiet, with the sun half-dimmed by thin clouds. A series of loud wingbeats from the forest. A gurgle from my gut.
June 16, 2023
The soft noise of steady rain; birdcalls sound half-submerged. I watch wisps of cloud drift through the yard.
June 16, 2022
Hazy and humid. The sun in the crown of the big dead maple. A hen turkey putting like slow motor, summoning her chicks.
June 16, 2021
Clear and cold (46F/8C). A few, blue chinks in the green wall of leaves where the ridgetop oaks have been decimated by gypsy moth caterpillars.