The Morning Porch

October 6, 2016 by Dave Bonta

The flashing light on the meter-reader’s truck emerges from the fog. The meadow is dotted with the white, inverted tents of funnel spiders.

August 12, 2025
An hour past sunrise, the first cicada call of the day stutters to a stop halfway through and resumes a half-hour later. Mosquitoes circle my feet propped up on the balustrade.
August 12, 2024
Clear and cold, with sun in the treetops. A pileated woodpecker in the yard lets loose with a cackle, prompting an immediate reply from off in the distance.
August 12, 2023
Another brief shower as the sun almost breaks through. A wood pewee answers his own question. I count the yellowing bracken fronds in my yard.
August 12, 2022
Clear, cold, and quiet except for the wren. A breeze through the treetops: trembling leaves anointed by the sun.
August 12, 2021
Dawn. A bat zig-zags high over the meadow en route to its roost as the few clouds turn pink.