The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta February 21, 2010

The nasal call of a jay became the soundtrack of happiness one sun-drenched afternoon of my childhood. The place is gone now—a subdivision.

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November 25, 2023
Cold and still for the opening day of rifle season. Distant booms set the crows off. The sun is a bright smudge in a sky…
November 25, 2022
Warm rain. The snow has shrunk to a few scrofulous patches in the woods. Half an hour before sunrise, a bluebird is singing.
November 25, 2021
No frost for the first time in weeks. Sunrise hidden by clouds, signaled by a slight brightening and a lively exchange between three nuthatches.
November 25, 2020
A rustling in the fallen leaves turns out to be the briefest of showers. The sky brightens. I practice looking at trees as if for…
November 25, 2019
Down in the old corral, a song sparrow sings the first part of his song and stops, twice. The cronk of a raven flying just…