Tag Archives: dawn

A dusting of snow on every branch and...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 30, 2011 at 1:31 pm

A dusting of snow on every branch and twig. In the half-dark, kinglets bob in the top of a black birch—their high, thin calls.

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A dark dawn. As light grows, the rain...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 21, 2011 at 7:39 am

A dark dawn. As light grows, the rain falls harder, thundering on the porch roof, drowning out all other sounds but a locomotive’s wail.

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A rabbit wanders back and forth in...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 30, 2011 at 2:19 pm

A rabbit wanders back and forth in the half-light of dawn—a nervous eater, hunched around its hunger. When it freezes, it almost disappears.

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Dawn light turns everything briefly...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 29, 2011 at 8:40 am

Dawn light turns everything briefly to gold: house, trees, the three deer that run a short way into the woods and stop, nostrils flaring.

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Dawn gives a rust-red belly to the...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 27, 2011 at 7:37 am

Dawn gives a rust-red belly to the clouds. Over the stream, I’m astonished to hear the ethereal notes of a hermit thrush song.

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At first light, some newly toppled...

By Dave Bonta | Published October 16, 2011 at 7:20 am

At first light, some newly toppled tree creaks in the wind. What I’d taken for the dog statue on the far side of the yard swivels its ears.

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Dawn. A migrant wood thrush flits from...

By Dave Bonta | Published October 3, 2011 at 12:24 pm

Dawn. A migrant wood thrush flits from branch to branch along the edge of the woods. In the yard, a grown fawn nuzzles its mother’s neck.

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Watching night turn to day—a...

By Dave Bonta | Published September 15, 2011 at 8:53 am

Watching night turn to day—a thing that should be gradual, but instead proceeds by small leaps of realization: “It’s lighter now!” Rain.

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The dawn sky turns salmon. Down by...

By Dave Bonta | Published June 7, 2011 at 9:36 am

The dawn sky turns salmon. Down by the stream, the hollow cough of a deer. A swig of coffee and I’m off to count birds before the rain.

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Dawn finds the walking onions still...

By Dave Bonta | Published June 2, 2011 at 5:47 am

Dawn finds the walking onions still as trolls, except for a slight swaying—no doubt the wind. A mosquito bite swells between my knuckles.

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