The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta September 23, 2016

A dead hornet lies on her back beside my chair with her six legs folded neatly over her thorax. At the woods’ edge, a rain of yellow leaves.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

November 25, 2023
Cold and still for the opening day of rifle season. Distant booms set the crows off. The sun is a bright smudge in a sky…
November 25, 2022
Warm rain. The snow has shrunk to a few scrofulous patches in the woods. Half an hour before sunrise, a bluebird is singing.
November 25, 2021
No frost for the first time in weeks. Sunrise hidden by clouds, signaled by a slight brightening and a lively exchange between three nuthatches.
November 25, 2020
A rustling in the fallen leaves turns out to be the briefest of showers. The sky brightens. I practice looking at trees as if for…
November 25, 2019
Down in the old corral, a song sparrow sings the first part of his song and stops, twice. The cronk of a raven flying just…