The Morning Porch

March 22, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Over the clang of church bells, the ethereal cries of wild swans: a huge high V off to the north. Sorry, folks. G-d has left the building.

March 14, 2025
A few degrees above freezing and very still. The full moon hangs above the western ridge, fresh from its run-in with the earth’s shadow, glowing…
March 14, 2024
Bright blear of a sun in a sky more white than blue. Its light reflecting off the window behind me means I am lit on…
March 14, 2023
The porch is plastered with fresh snow; more flakes fly past without stopping. A Carolina wren holds forth from the heart of a barberry.
March 14, 2022
Sunrise reddens the western ridge and its whine of traffic. Cardinal song. With my last sip of tea, the sun strikes my face.
March 14, 2021
Can daylight be saved? An hour late, I watch the sun assemble itself among the ridgetop trees one blazing shard at a time—a kind of…