Sunday September 15, 2013

Dave Bonta September 15, 2013

Cold at sunrise. A pileated woodpecker hitches up the trunk of tall locust, pausing to yell when he reaches the sunlit crown.

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Cold and drizzly. Two feet from the hypericum's last yellow petals, the honeysuckle's first yellow leaf. …

In the overgrown garden, two soapwort flowers drip with rain. The small book of haiku I'm reading is perfect for swatting mosquitoes. …

‪The front-porch hornets have dwindled; the new queens must've pupated and gone. The remaining workers soldier on like unRaptured Christians.‬ …

Clear and cold. A squirrel trots into the woods with the green globe of a walnut clenched in its teeth. The oleaginous burble of a wren. …

Breezy and cool. The spider with the banded legs at the end of the porch clutches the husk of a stinkbug, rotating it, looking for morsels. …

A Cooper's hawk hurtles out of the woods and alights briefly in a yard tree. The assembly-line sound of territorial chipmunks never lets up. …

Just because we live here year 'round doesn't mean we don't get restless this time of year. A V of geese low over the trees, headed north. …

Four bluebirds take turns checking out the empty flicker hole in the dead elm—a winter nest site, maybe? A raven flies past, croaking. …

A mosquito's thin song in my ear. I wave her away, then watch as she and another tangle, part, and settle upside-down on the white ceiling. …

Past 6:00, and it's still warm and cloudy. But the moon soon breaks through into good weather. As its glow dims, the breeze turns cool. …

All the small birds converge on a birch tree to scold some hidden thing. It never stirs. They drift away. Sunlight settles on the leaves. …

No yellow in the lilac yet, but a growing spectrum of greens. Random clatters from the new house site, where a green metal roof is going up. …

The Morning Porch/Patio