The Morning Porch

January 1, 2015 by Dave Bonta

The rasping cries of male squirrels trailing a female in estrus through the treetops. I can feel my breath freezing to my beard.

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January 9, 2025
Trees creak and clatter in the growing light. Somewhere nearby, freezing sap is trapped and the heartwood bursts, loud as a rifle shot.
January 9, 2024
Snow falling so fast at sunrise you can hear it: a sort of high soughing as millions of special snowflakes hurtle into the oblivion of…
January 9, 2023
The ground is white again. Bright spots in the clouds that could be moon or dawn. The deep breathing of the pines.
January 9, 2021
Clear and still. The tree’s long shadows stripe the white hillside like a zebra. Below the porch, a cat’s footprints.
January 9, 2020
Cold and still. Mares’ tails running north-south slowly soften into wool. Fresh tire tracks on the road. A crow’s distant note of protest.