The Morning Porch

February 17, 2013 by Dave Bonta

Sun shining through a flurry. Two chickadees weave madly through a barberry bush, the pursued bird trying to enlist the thorns on its side.

June 9, 2025
Occasional glimpses of sun. The first periodical cicadas began singing at sunrise, and by midmorning it’s a kind of high, ceaseless static—as if they’re relaying transmissions from the cosmos.
June 9, 2025
Occasional glimpses of sun. The first periodical cicadas began singing at sunrise, and by midmorning it’s a kind of high, ceaseless static—as if they’re relaying transmissions from the cosmos.
June 9, 2024
Breezy and cool. The briefest of showers comes tapping on the roof. A tall dame’s rocket sways in front of the porch, all its flowers converted into needle-thin pods.
June 9, 2023
A slight sheen on the leaves at sunrise—what passes for rain these days must’ve fallen. The faintest smell of soil. An ovenbird’s endless lesson.
June 9, 2022
Just past sunrise, a clearing wind. I look up from the Eastern Europe of my book to flame-bellied clouds, the forest all astir.