The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta November 11, 2007

My left thumb itches, but nothing wickeder than a nuthatch materializes. The sun comes up.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

May 24, 2024
Sunlight through the trees slowly growing sharper as high clouds thin out. A shadow-play of two silent crows. A falling petal.
May 24, 2023
As early as I get up, I still feel like a late riser: just past six and the birds are already winding down, the sun…
May 24, 2022
Heavily overcast and cool. The black cherry trees at the woods’ edge point the fingers of their inflorescences in every direction but down.
May 24, 2021
Waiting for rain, everything sounds like an augury—catbird, chipmunk, great-crested flycatcher—and just before the first drops, that hush.
May 24, 2020
Overcast and damp. My mother stops by to point out the highly unexceptional call of the aptly named least flycatcher.