Tag Archives: phoebe

Gone for just two days, I come home...

By Dave Bonta | Published June 20, 2011 at 10:35 am

Gone for just two days, I come home to find half the lilac crushed by a fallen limb from the dead elm. A phoebe already uses it as a perch.

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A tiger swallowtail butterfly glows...

By Dave Bonta | Published June 6, 2011 at 1:58 pm

A tiger swallowtail butterfly glows in the strong sun like stained glass. In the shade, a freshly bathed phoebe straightens its feathers.

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Phoebe in the barnyard, pewee in the...

By Dave Bonta | Published May 19, 2011 at 8:24 am

Phoebe in the barnyard, pewee in the woods. What is it about cleared land that turns a lilting refrain into a burden, a shrill work song?

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Cold and quiet. Two phoebes are refurbishing...

By Dave Bonta | Published March 20, 2011 at 9:13 am

Cold and quiet. Two phoebes are refurbishing the nest under the springhouse eaves, going to the stream and returning with beaks full of mud.

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Colder this morning, and no sign of...

By Dave Bonta | Published March 19, 2011 at 11:51 am

Colder this morning, and no sign of the phoebes that came back yesterday. A robin sings and falls silent. The sun comes out, goes in.

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The cattails’ broken blades are...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 19, 2010 at 8:59 am

The cattails’ broken blades are white with rime. Two juncos flutter up under the springhouse eaves, investigating the empty phoebe nest.

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How does the poison ivy know to turn...

By Dave Bonta | Published September 28, 2010 at 8:26 am

How does the poison ivy know to turn the same salmon as the red maple it has infiltrated? A phoebe chases a kinglet from the roadside weeds.

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A cloudless sunrise. The woods are...

By Dave Bonta | Published September 5, 2010 at 8:04 am

A cloudless sunrise. The woods are full of soft chirps—migrants, I suppose. Up by the barn, a phoebe calls for the first time in weeks.

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A phoebe’s spiraling dive ends...

By Dave Bonta | Published July 7, 2010 at 8:47 am

A phoebe’s spiraling dive ends with an audible snap of its bill. A catbird improvises from the lilac, switching branches after each line.

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A phoebe pecks at the porch roof, then...

By Dave Bonta | Published June 30, 2010 at 7:22 am

A phoebe pecks at the porch roof, then lands in the cherry tree with its feathers puffed out against the cold. The waning moon.

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