The Morning Porch

July 17, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Gray sky, gray titmouse descending the gray ladder of dead elm branches, pausing to swipe its bill against each as if sharpening a blade.

June 12, 2025
Breezy and cool. A brown moth flutters into the last of the dame’s-rocket. Sunlight glints on the isinglass wings of a cicada heading for the treetops.
June 12, 2024
Cold and partly clear. A distant motorcycle accelerates and shifts gears. A cranefly drifts past, improbable as a steam-punk contraption.
June 12, 2023
Rain! That unfamiliar whisper rising to the level of a murmur. And a Carolina wren rushing about, making sure the world knows.
June 12, 2022
When the clouds move off, an orbweaver’s web appears in the corner of a porch balustrade, shimmering as it pulses in the breeze.
June 12, 2021
Wet, but at least it’s not raining. Wood thrush, vireo and tanager songs mingle at the woods’ edge. The wingbeats of a catbird.