The vibrating of a dead branch…

Dave Bonta July 25, 2010

The vibrating of a dead branch from which a bird has just flown. In a funnel spider web among the weeds, 14 raindrops from the last storm.

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April 23, 2023
Cool and damp at sunrise. A small cottontail grazes at the woods’ edge: a salad of tiny leaves. A gnatcatcher’s soft soliloquy.
April 23, 2022
A 30-second rain. I count nine shades of green, all circled by a cardinal in his flame-colored cap. The daffodils once again stand erect.
April 23, 2021
Bright sun. High in the tulip tree, among the shining leaf nubbins, two robins meet for combat and tumble to the ground.
April 23, 2020
Rising late, I sit gazing at the blank white sky and recalling my dreams: Mom turned into a zombie, stove possessed by demons, me applying…
April 23, 2019
The first cabbage whites of spring! said no one ever. But their mad pas de deux is as full of zest as the tiger beetle…
April 23, 2018
Two blue-gray gnatcatchers take turns sallying forth from the lilac, zigzagging, hovering to hoover their namesake prey from the cool air.
April 23, 2017
‪I sit with my feet propped on the top railing as usual. A chickadee with a beak full of grass lands on my boots and…
April 23, 2016
The black birches are in blossom—gray catkins dangling like understated feather boas. Nothing like the wild pear tree’s blaring white.
April 23, 2015
Scattered snowflakes. On the back slope, a gray tabby cat is stalking voles, head swiveling to follow each ripple of wind in the grass.
April 23, 2014
Cold winds stir the leaves on the forest floor in lieu of anything better. A towhee seeks the shelter of the lilac for her own…

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