Wednesday October 21, 2015

Dave Bonta October 21, 2015

The yelling of a crow unable to raise a mob. Sun glints on caterpillar silk strung like abandoned bunting among bare walnut-tree branches.

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October 20, 2016
The tulip poplar sapling in the yard glows in the sunlight, a golden column. A honeybee buzzes around the empty light socket above my head.
October 20, 2015
Warm, with a bleary sun. Three deer file out of the woods: a doe with grown fawns. She pauses to browse the leaves on a feral privet bush.
October 20, 2013
Sunny and cold. The soft whistles of white-throated sparrows are slowly subsumed by the hundred voices of an approaching bulldozer.
October 20, 2012
Two antlerless deer pass the porch ten minutes apart, each grunting anxiously. Gray-brown now, they almost vanish into the dead goldenrod.
October 20, 2011
Now that the birch closest to the porch is bare, I notice a large hornets' nest: a ghost town, a wino's abandoned bottle in a paper sack.
October 20, 2010
I pick the last few unsplit witch hazel nuts in my garden, hoping I can witness their famed explosions. I line them up on top of my monitor.
October 20, 2009
Bright lights appear on a storm-felled locust below my parents' house—reflections from the second-storey windows. A hawk's swift shadow.
October 20, 2008
The coldest morning so far this season. Faint noises in the darkness must be leaves letting go, brushing against branches on their way down.

The Morning Porch