The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta February 16, 2018

It’s been raining for 15 hours; the creek roars. The snowy ridges the plow made now resemble the mountains I know, orphaned, deeply eroded.

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December 18, 2023
Wind seasoned with drizzle in the pre-dawn darkness. Between gusts, the distant whine of tires. A tree limb cracks, but no crash.
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Steady rain and fog at one degree above freezing: bad luck for our Christmas Bird Count. Over the rain I hear crows, nuthatches, a chickadee.
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The icy trees have been dusted with snow, which still sticks in the wind when they make a sound like the dry grinding of snails’…
December 18, 2018
Clear and cold. Blazing through a forest’s worth of treetops, the rising sun looks feathery, a bit disheveled.