Friday December 12, 2008

Dave Bonta December 12, 2008

The world’s white again: even with the wind, a thin coating of snow sticks to every icy surface. Juncos flit through clattering branches.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

August 19, 2016
Crystal-clear sky. A piece of thistledown floats past like an airborne jellyfish. A hummingbird visits the last, purple scraps of bergamot.
August 19, 2015
A flat white sky. The ambiguous gestures of random leaves, waving or perhaps drowning in the thick air. A hummingbird is here and gone.
August 19, 2014
A furious buzzing from around the house where hummingbirds duel over the last few beebalm flowers. A half-grown fawn emerges from the woods.
August 19, 2013
Back from London, my ears are still adjusting to the country. The unending insect thrum seems to come from some city hidden in the grass.
August 19, 2012
I get up to pick the ripe berries on the spicebush in my garden. Allspice aroma wafts up from the red drupes as I pinch them off the twigs.
August 19, 2011
A buck in velvet, his coat already turning gray, startles up out of the grass. A hungry hummingbird presses her bill to the metal flamingo.
August 19, 2010
Cool and clear. The hair I cut last night by moonlight, leaning over the rail with the electric clippers, still shines silver in the weeds.
August 19, 2009
A horse fly—rare visitor—rides my parents' car down the road, then follows me onto the porch. It takes two flyswatter blows to do her in.
August 19, 2008
I'm beginning to distinguish individual locomotives by their whistles. The majority merely say Look Out, but a few almost manage I Am.

The Morning Porch/Patio