Monday April 22, 2013

Dave Bonta April 22, 2013

The hammer-blows of a pileated woodpecker opening up an oak. Peonies are sprouting in the garden, an infant’s pink, half-open fists.

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Spitting rain. A small flock of great tits in the elder, jockeying for a chance at the suet. Below, a quiet robin blends into the dirt. …

The rain has stopped but the creek keeps singing like a drunk going home from a party. The sun comes out and all the house's windows fog up. …

‪A fork-tailed bush katydid lands on the bottom railing, looks around, then flies off toward the woods on wings half grass blade, half angel.‬ …

The yellow is moving up from the goldenrod to the birches, tulip trees and elms. A red-bellied woodpecker's shrill calls end in a trill. …

The black walnut trees shed their leaves into the wind like feathers stripped from the wings of Miltonian angels. The walnuts thunder down. …

Fog. The splat of a walnut on the driveway, knocked loose by a foraging squirrel. A rabbit grazing the sodden grass freezes. …

Moon in the morning sky like a broken plate. Squirrels are climbing walnut trees and descending with fat green globes between their teeth. …

An agitated Carolina wren progresses from between-station radio static noises to musical chirps, then silence. A freight train wails. …

Overcast. The softly glowing reds and yellows, the hum of crickets, even the normally annoying call of a towhee all inspire nostalgia. …

Three migrant catbirds land in the spicebush beside my front door, drawn by the berries' stop-sign red. Between each berry, a scolding mew. …

Overcast and cool with jays, jays, jays. A red-tailed hawk's pale breast flashing through the leaves, the sound of wingtips clipping limbs. …

A large flock of geese somewhere above the clouds. The purple asters in the garden are folded shut like sea anemones with overly long arms. …

The Morning Porch/Patio