The Morning Porch

October 4, 2013 by Dave Bonta

A squirrel hurls itself from maple to locust, falling, grabbing hold. It runs to the end of a limb and stops, staring across at the walnut.

December 8, 2024
The first sunrise above freezing in weeks. The sun climbs into the palest shade of blue as treetops sway and gyrate in the wind. A…
December 8, 2023
The moon’s bright bowl full of darkness rises through the trees at dawn and vanishes into clouds. Two great-horned owls on the valley side of…
December 8, 2022
A late-morning brightness in the clouds. A white-breasted nuthatch descending a tall black locust turns right-side-up.
December 8, 2021
Rising late, what have I missed? The sky is white and the air is dead still. There’s no snow. The usual birds are making their…
December 8, 2020
Bright sun, icy breeze. A few flakes zoom past. The only cloud is tiny and dissolves as I watch, leaving the sky to the fourth-quarter…