Tuesday May 05, 2009

Dave Bonta May 5, 2009

All these songs I haven’t heard for nine months—it’s like a recurring dream in which birds from the tropics suddenly show up in our woods.

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April 23, 2017
‪I sit with my feet propped on the top railing as usual. A chickadee with a beak full of grass lands on my boots and hops from toe to toe.‬
April 23, 2016
The black birches are in blossom—gray catkins dangling like understated feather boas. Nothing like the wild pear tree's blaring white.
April 23, 2015
Scattered snowflakes. On the back slope, a gray tabby cat is stalking voles, head swiveling to follow each ripple of wind in the grass.
April 23, 2014
Cold winds stir the leaves on the forest floor in lieu of anything better. A towhee seeks the shelter of the lilac for her own rummaging.
April 23, 2013
Clear—but how clear? I notice a faint haze in the sky near the sun. Off in the woods, the white cloud of another shadbush coming into bloom.
April 23, 2012
Snow falling faster than it can melt. Unto every one that hath shall be given, says the sky: hawthorn and bridal wreath now twice as white.
April 23, 2011
Four gray squirrels interrupt their chasing to scold the feral cat—a Two Minutes' Hate. In the corner of my eye, the zip of a winter wren.
April 23, 2010
Mid-morning sun: I'm almost baking until the wind blows, cool as midnight, the chitter of goldfinches interrupted by a raven's cronk.
April 23, 2009
A moment of sunlight illuminates the yard. Water seeps from the mountain's every pore. The starling is doing its best to talk like a duck.
April 23, 2008
A male starling—a rarity here—lands among the cherry blossoms, iridescent black feathers speckled with white. He gargles musically.

The Morning Porch

The view from my front porch every morning in 140 or fewer characters

Tuesday May 05, 2009