Skip to content

The Morning Porch

The view from my front porch every morning in 140 or fewer characters

  • About
  • Keyword index
  • Multimedia
  • Links
    • Via Negativa
    • Moving Poems
    • DaveBonta.com
    • Woodrat Photoblog
  • Random
  • Home
  • 2018
  • February
  • Saturday February 03, 2018

Saturday February 03, 2018

Dave Bonta February 3, 2018

Silence broken only by the wind for many minutes, until the fire alarm goes off in town: once, twice, three times rising from moan to wail.

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
Posted in journal
Tagged fire, wind
Previous Post: Previous Post
Next Post: Next Post

Primary Sidebar

Now out!

Cover of Ice Mountain with a linocut of a big ridgetop tree.
A journal in poems from 2014, beautifully illustrated by Beth Adams and available from Phoenicia Publishing.

Follow via Email

Get The Morning Porch delivered to your inbox every day.

Join 4,918 other subscribers

Other ways to follow

  • @morningporch on Twitter
  • RSS - entries
  • RSS - comments
  • Follow on Feedly

On this date

  • April 19, 2017
    ‪Something sets off the neighbor's rooster, and a few moments later a raven flies past the porch, croaking like a duck with laryngitis.‬
  • April 19, 2016
    A paper wasp slowly inspects the porch railings, long legs dangling. Just inside the woods' edge, one pale bone of a log gleams in the sun.
  • April 19, 2015
    Two chickadees inspect the old cherry stump for potential nest holes, tapping, exploring its hollow core. Up on the ridge, a turkey gobbles.
  • April 19, 2014
    A red-tailed hawk spirals high on a thermal over the powerline. When I stand up, a raven takes off behind the house—the noise of its wings.
  • April 19, 2013
    The soft colors of trees just coming into blossom: birch, elm, shadbush. The bright yellow on yellow of a bumblebee visiting the daffodils.
  • April 19, 2012
    The green blush deepens on the hillside; shining motes of pollen speckle my laptop screen. A crow flaps up from the black currant bushes.
  • April 19, 2011
    An accelerated tapping on the roof—who ordered rain? One bird says Konkerlee, another, Drink your tea. Takes me a second to sort them out.
  • April 19, 2010
    What makes the spring peepers start calling in the middle of a morning, with sun so strong I can see the faint pollen filming the floor?
  • April 19, 2009
    Gray sky. Distant drumming of a grouse—so faint, it could be the mountain's own heartbeat. A rabbit in the lilac scratches behind its ear.
  • April 19, 2008
    Over the dawn fusillade of woodpeckers, I hear the distant gobbles of a turkey. Five deer graze below the house. The doves make moan.

Copyleft

Creative Commons License
All works on this site by Dave Bonta are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

Translate this site

Header image

Detail from Paper Garden by Clive Hicks-Jenkins (used by permission)

Feedback

  • On suffering – Via Negativa on Saturday February 03, 2018
  • Call it grace – Via Negativa on Saturday February 03, 2018
  • Ama on Saturday February 03, 2018
  • ABCD: Frozen | barleybooks on Saturday February 03, 2018
  • Brenda Clews on Saturday February 03, 2018

Archives

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • Vimeo
  • RSS

Copyright © 2018 The Morning Porch. Powered by WordPress and Stargazer.

loading Cancel
Post was not sent - check your email addresses!
Email check failed, please try again
Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.