August 7, 2011 – The Morning Porch

August 7, 2011 by Dave Bonta

Thin fog. A spiderweb spread like a handkerchief a few inches above the ground has a large collection of raindrops, each of them perfect.

August 24, 2025
Overcast and quiet. A doe and two fawns melt into the woods when I come out. In the meadow, this morning’s bindweed trumpets are already vibrating with bumblebees.
August 24, 2024
Clear and still, except for some noise from the quarry—the crusher digesting its breakfast of stone. A deer’s footsteps up in the woods. A scolding squirrel.
August 24, 2023
Overcast and cool. A phoebe calls a few times from beyond the spring house and falls silent. As if in mockery, a pewee’s slower, more lilting response.
August 24, 2022
First day of a dry high. Sunlight seeping down the trees. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the cicadas have started up.
August 24, 2021
A stratum of sunlit leaves forming in the forest understory. A cicada wakes up. Under the house, something coughs.