The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta February 5, 2009

1°F. A breeze feels as sharp as the studded rim of the sun rising through the trees. The call of a cardinal like an engine trying to start.

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March 15, 2024
A gray cloud ceiling brightens toward the horizon. A phoebe stridently announces himself to the echoey hillside and the daffodils trembling in the breeze.
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Clear and cold, with a bitter wind to remind me it’s actually March. I watch the sun through the corner of my eye as it…
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Bright sun. The damp ground glistens like a salamander. A jet goes over—the first I’ve heard in a while.
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Dark clouds in the west lit up by the sun—backdrop for the first turkey vultures of spring, 14 of them, circling. A field sparrow sings.