The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta August 15, 2010

A titmouse combs the dead cherry tree for insects, his black seed of an eye and wizard’s cap bobbing as he snaps at shriveled leaves.

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January 22, 2024
Between moonset and dawn, a dark hour filled with the sound of freight trains. I hold my head still to watch Venus slip through the…
January 22, 2023
Sky the color of faded jeans. It’s cold. The crash of a dead limb falling from the treetops where two female squirrels are eluding suitors.
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