The Morning Porch

September 11, 2017 by Dave Bonta

Strands of silk left by spider or caterpillar aeronauts shimmer in and out of view. From the woods, a chipmunk’s high-pitched monologue.

1 thought on “”

Sarah Russell

September 11, 2017 at 11:33 am

So glad you’re back. I always take a deep breath after reading what you see from your morning porch.

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August 25, 2025
Clear and cool. One minute before sunrise, a long-tailed weasel appears at the end of the porch with a meadow vole dangling from her mouth, sees me, and disappears back into the weeds. I catch one more glimpse of a reddish-brown shadow crossing the driveway.
August 25, 2024
A desultory dawn chorus of one Carolina wren and a towhee. I consider baring an arm to stop the mosquitoes from whining in my ear.
August 25, 2023
After a soggy night, a few more raindrops and then some brightening. A vireo starts up. The lowest branch on the tulip tree has turned yellow.
August 25, 2022
Clear and cold. A squirrel joins the sun at the top of a scarlet oak Dad and I planted 25 years ago, now laden with acorns.
August 25, 2021
In the dawn light, a hummingbird double-checks that I’m not a flower, hovering over my head like a wild thought.