Saturday March 28, 2015

Dave Bonta March 28, 2015

A dusting of snow. Three song sparrows are trying to out-sing each other, and the tall black locust at the woods’ edge creaks with ice.

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A blue wound opens in the clouds and heals over again. In the garden, pink claws that may become peonies if a late frost doesn't kill them. …

‪Three clumps of pale mushrooms have appeared in the yard, one bearing an old leaf aloft like an extra parasol. Waves of lilac scent.‬ …

Warm and windy. Nuthatch and woodpecker calls intermingle with the creaks and rattles of trees, most of which have now burst their buds. …

Bright sun, cold shadows. Down in the hollow, two downy woodpeckers are engaged in a head-banging competition. The neighbor's rooster crows. …

In a gust of wind, one dead leaf dances too crazily: a question mark butterfly. It rests with its orange wings open to the sun. …

The fierce cries of a male kestrel climbing, fluttering and diving over the corner of the field. A crow hurries over to harass it. …

Watched by a chipmunk at the end of the stone wall, I hold a mouthful of coffee in my cheeks, do my best to look as if I know how to live. …

Thanks to insomnia, I have two mornings: one with ground fog lit by the waning moon at dawn, the other hot and abuzz with carpenter bees. …

Drum of rain on the roof and the birds sound distant—robin, field sparrow, cowbird—the world greener than it's been in seven months. …

Sunrise. A white moth and a white butterfly flit between the cherry blossoms, and at the edge of the woods, the shadblow is in full bloom. …

Cherry blossoms are falling—an early-morning bumblebee. Dressed for a funeral, I sit listening to the first wood thrushes of the year. …

The Morning Porch/Patio