Thursday September 08, 2016

Dave Bonta September 8, 2016

The scattered creaks of red-winged blackbirds off in the woods. A mosquito wanders over my shirt, testing the fabric with her frail drill.

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An ashen sky, gravid with snow. The field sparrow's back: that song that sounds like rising excitement (or alarm, depending on one's mood). …

At mid-morning, a low, heavy cloud ceiling that muffles sound. The first snowflakes wander in, accompanied by a song sparrow's jaunty tune. …

Snowstorm. Two male cardinals meet on a white branch and stare at each other. A third red crest flashes in the woods: pileated woodpecker. …

Dark clouds, and a sombre brightness underneath. A few, wet flakes of snow swirl past. Robin song. …

One avatar of spring, despite the snow cover: a turkey vulture comes hurtling over the house, wings tilting crazily in the high wind. …

The spicebush is a haze of yellow beyond the springhouse. Another too-warm morning. What will be left of spring by warbler time? …

Cold and quiet. Two phoebes are refurbishing the nest under the springhouse eaves, going to the stream and returning with beaks full of mud. …

I hear distant goose music and scan the sky. A thousand feet up, against a web of contrails, a lone Canada goose is heading north. …

Swirling snow, swan music, song sparrow, the tapping of a woodpecker, a chipmunk's tock tock tock—forget God. Is your moment big enough? …

Windy and cold. The last three dots of snow visible from the porch have disappeared in the night. Overhead, a small window opens onto blue. …

The Morning Porch/Patio