The Morning Porch

August 10, 2010 by Dave Bonta

A netwing beetle flies past at eye-level, its orange-striped, eponymous elytra raised in a semaphor U. The muggy air thickens into rain.

May 20, 2025
Cold and mostly clear. Barely audible above the red-eyed vireos and scarlet tanager, the minor-key call of a titmouse—that wintry sound.
May 20, 2024
Fog lifts to reveal blue sky, the sun in the treetops. A scarlet tanager hurtles past the porch with a second in close pursuit. The morning’s first itch prickles the back of my hand.
May 20, 2023
The snap of a gnatcatcher’s beak behind the lilac, and just beyond, a wood pewee’s melismatic drawl. The sun glimmers briefly through a hole in the clouds.
May 20, 2022
Rain. The hummingbird darts out to drink from her favorite spiderweb. Indigo bunting like the one blue leaf.
May 20, 2021
Mid-morning and it’s already hot. The black locusts—last to leaf out—have a fresh green fuzz. A carpenter bee inspects the roof.