Wednesday November 18, 2015

Dave Bonta November 18, 2015

Cold and gray. Two doves sit motionless in a tall locust. A pileated woodpecker skulks through the woods, silent save for its wingbeats.

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Looking at the pattern of wet spots on the table. One could classify showers based on whether they last long enough to apply one full coat. …

Cold and damp. The distant rumble of the heating oil truck's diesel engine coming up the hollow. Voices of crows. Voices of children. …

‪The air's so clear I can see gnats 100 feet away—bright motes wandering among the trees. Dead leaves crowd together at the end of the porch. …

Overcast with quarry noise out of the east. A lone Canada goose flies low over the trees, its voice breaking like a teenage boy's. …

As leaves begin to flutter in the rain, I notice the small birds fluttering underneath them, like a flash mob that was there all along. …

A high-speed chase through the yard—one Cooper's hawk tailing another. Woodpecker pandemonium. High above, a jet leaves two blank lines. …

All the stiltgrass has turned burgundy—"the wine-dark yard." In the woods, a steady procession of falling birch leaves. …

With the walnut leaves down, I can once again see the line of aspens: still green, still full of ambiguous gestures. (Hello? Get lost?) …

The lowering sky lightens a little when the rain finally starts. Yellow leaves flutter down from the walnut tree like exhausted moths. …

How does the poison ivy know to turn the same salmon as the red maple it has infiltrated? A phoebe chases a kinglet from the roadside weeds. …

Brief shower from a blue sky; a rumble of thunder. Goldenrod by the woods' edge is turning yellow for the second time with fallen leaves. …

Steady rain. Two squirrels passing each other on the driveway circle briefly, as if on an invisible roundabout. A towhee's mindless chant. …

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