The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta June 9, 2015

Despite the constant agitation of the tulip tree’s thin-stemmed leaves, its eponymous sex organs barely move—golden cups open to the clouds.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

January 13, 2024
After a night of snow and rain, trees rock and clatter under orange clouds. The roof drips. Scattered flakes swirl past.
January 13, 2023
Treetops rock and sway as the dawn sky shuffles patches of darkness and patches of light. The inevitable crow.
January 13, 2021
Cold, gray, and still. Two squirrels attract small followings as they wander over the snowpack, a sign of seasonal heat building within.
January 13, 2020
Quiet except for the distant whine of traffic on I-99 and some small bird chirping behind the oil tanks. The sun comes out for five…
January 13, 2019
Woodpeckers big and small are tapping on trees without disturbing the snow on every branch. Hibernating insects will never hear the knock.