The Morning Porch

May 28, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Pale bones of the dead elm, standing at the edge of the yard like an emissary from Lent amidst a Mardi Gras of green, reach into fog.

January 1, 2025
A gray sunrise, with the kind of tiny, windblown raindrops that started life as snow. Fire sirens wail in the valley, and I picture a…
January 1, 2024
Overcast and quiet before dawn. A half-inch of fresh snow sticks to everything, glowing faintly in the light of a hidden moon.
January 1, 2023
A clearing sky at sunrise with the sound of running water and a wren. The snow is looking threadbare, even on north-facing slopes.
January 1, 2021
The sky is a blank slate. High in the trees, a squirrel emerges from its ovoid nest, looks around, and goes back in.
January 1, 2020
Fresh snow melting on the porch roof—a curtain of drips. Chickadees’ cheerful calls are the first thing I hear: a good omen, I think.