The Morning Porch

February 26, 2012 by Dave Bonta

Pileated woodpeckers forage on all sides, hammering, drumming, cackling, whooping. I feel as if I’m surrounded by a troupe of insane clowns.

1 thought on “”

Comments are closed.

November 25, 2024
Just as my moonlit shadow slips away into the dawn, the Carolina wrens who roost beside the laundry room door start up, with a brassy…
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…