The Morning Porch

November 17, 2008 by Dave Bonta

Fresh snow, but not enough to turn the hillside white. Like an old man with bushy brows, the earth peeks out from under every arched leaf.

February 4, 2025
A gray sunrise, signalled only by the yelling of crows. After yesterday’s warmth, the ground is more brown than white. The wind picks up, clattering…
February 4, 2024
A song sparrow singing at first light as if it were March already. A quiet trickle from the spring. The moon gapes through the treetops,…
February 4, 2023
-14C at dawn and very still. A sound like a rifle shot as some tree’s heartwood splits open. Two distant bugle notes from a Canada…
February 4, 2022
Dawn, and all the stream’s voices are raised. A squirrel finds a black walnut sticking out of a snowbank and races off with it.
February 4, 2021
A crow mob on the move—their angry cries. Sun stripes the snow. I hold my head still to watch the slowly shifting points of glitter.