Thursday April 16, 2015

Dave Bonta April 16, 2015

Two wild turkeys cross the road into the woods, their dark feathers shining in the sun as they disappear into the equally lustrous laurel.

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Through the warm sun and the cold wind, hummingbirds come and go. I squint at the trees, trying to tell if the leaves are any bigger today. …

A flock of warblers at the woods' edge in the pouring rain: flashes of redstart, cerulean, black-and-white. A singing black-throated green. …

Overcast enough that the wood thrushes are still singing at mid-day. The cloying scent of cypress spurge wafts over from my weedy herb bed. …

A box turtle plods across the yard, the markings on its shell as bright as fresh graffiti. A bluebird scratches behind his ear like a dog. …

The old crabapple tree next to the springhouse has pulled it off again, blossoming wildly. The catbird scat-sings from its purple depths. …

The red porch floor is pocked with yellowish green pollen. In the garden, a red crabapple petal is plastered to a witch hazel leaf. …

A muffled knocking from inside the dead elm. A flicker's head pops out of a hole and flings a billful of wood chips into the sun. …

Two grackles appear at the woods' edge, iridescent black against the brightest green of the year. In the garden, the first yellow iris. …

April's solitary vireo and brown thrasher have been replaced by red-eyed vireo and catbird—an adagio movement giving way to an allegro. …

Black-throated green: the warbler lisping at the woods' edge, but also the woods itself, green-feathered, trunks running dark with rain. …

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