Thursday June 05, 2008

Dave Bonta June 5, 2008

A hummingbird lands on the upturned tip of a dead elm branch; the branch doesn’t move a hair. The first open peony lies on its side.

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Intermittent sun. A large butterfly blunders into the back of the garden and just as quickly disappears again. …

Under the roar of police helicopters, the weight of the state feels almost literal. Half a block away, a crosswalk chirps: Proceed, insect! …

Strong sun, deep shadow. Off in the woods, two deer-shaped silhouettes glide through a sunlit glade. A mourning dove coos a single note. …

The air becomes clearer as I drink my coffee, the shadows deeper. A bumblebee methodically circles the purple mop-heads of bergamot. …

A red-spotted purple butterfly is in my seat, slow-dancing with its attenuated shadow. The ageless wheezing of a black-and-white warbler. …

Half past midnight in the moonlit forest, a cuckoo tried out the screech owl's call. This morning, just a red-eyed vireo repeating himself. …

On the garlic tops below the porch, the skins are peeling back, burst by the pressure of insurrectionary mobs with wild green hair. …

Pursued by its parent onto a dead branch, a vireo fledgling: smaller and paler, like a ghost who must be fed. The wide-eyed fleabane below. …

A high-pitched, terrified bleat. Half a minute later, the alarm snorts of an adult deer. Sun in the treetops. The snorting goes on and on. …

The Morning Porch/Patio