The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta February 14, 2012 1

This morning it’s the titmouse’s turn to sing his spring song—an ode to tedium. I’m grateful when it’s drowned out by a mob of crows.

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Chroma | Via Negativa
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January 30, 2024
Overcast and quiet except for the watery chorus. A chipmunk dashes across a patch of snow and disappears under the house.
January 30, 2023
The snowpack is holey again. A sunrise sky is visible through the trees on the ridgetop for just a few minutes until the fog descends.
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Amorous squeaks of squirrels. A small fissure in the clouds approaches the sun and the frozen landscape brightens for half a minute.
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As slowly as the sky cleared yesterday morning, today it returns to white, like the growing blankness in my memory where some face had been.