The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta January 27, 2010

Windy and cold. Six-legged stars bloom on my jeans, standing out against the faded black where the ticks of autumn had been so camouflaged.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

September 6, 2024
Another cool, clear, still morning. The bang of a walnut on a metal roof. A chipmunk’s metronome.
September 6, 2023
A nuthatch calling just inside the woods. From the barnyard, a Carolina wren. Chickadee in the yard. Then the sun comes up and it’s a…
September 6, 2022
A break in the showers: it’s overcast but bright. A slug glides slowly up the porch railing with its 27,000 teeth.
September 6, 2021
In the dark of the moon, the luminance of stars. From town, a wailing of fire sirens, their literally compelling music an eerie, out-of-sync duet.
September 6, 2017
I cede the porch to the hornets and sit under the portico. The view: a garden full of weeds, a least flycatcher landing briefly on…