The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta February 9, 2010

The soft trills of a screech owl an hour before dawn. I sip my coffee as quietly as I can.

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May 31, 2024
Cold and crystal-clear. Sound is out of the east, where the quarry machines grind, giving the rising sun an industrial soundtrack.
May 31, 2023
Today instead of the usual quickie here I wrote a proper Morning Porch poem over at the ol’ Via. Bon appetit.
May 31, 2022
Treetops rusty with sun. Worm-eating warbler—or is it a chipping sparrow? That dry rattle. A pair of mating craneflies goes unsteadily past.
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The first clear sky in days. In the deep, holiday silence, each bird call sounds distinct, as if it comes from a far-off time or…
May 31, 2020
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