The Morning Porch

October 29, 2008 by Dave Bonta

The first snow of the season blows sideways through the thinning woods. All the roofs are white, white—sudden colonies of the sky.

January 5, 2025
Cold with a patchwork sky in which some pink appears and fades. The red squirrel scolds from its hole high in a locust as a…
January 5, 2024
One last glimpse of the crescent moon before it’s swallowed by clouds. The typewriter sound of squirrel claws on bark, chasing. It’s cold.
January 5, 2023
Fifteen minutes after sunrise, the cloud-lid lifts, and a bright seam appears above the horizon. A white-throated sparrow sings two notes and stops.
January 5, 2021
The mockingbird in a bush beside the stream chases off other birds coming in to drink. A squirrel with only half a tail plods over…
January 5, 2020
Snowflakes in the air give shape to the wind. I sneeze, and a pileated woodpecker emerges from the far side of an oak and flies…