Monday March 12, 2018

Cold and gloomy, but the yard seethes with birds: juncos, cardinals, wren. A hundred yards away, a hawk sits on a limb, bedeviled by crows.

On this date

Ten minutes before first light, the first distant, barking dog. Ten minutes before that, a barred owl’s cackle. …

Beads of rain that were shining moonlets 10 hours ago are now mere glitter. Night has shrunk to the dark iridescence in a butterfly's wing. …

Hazy and warm. As the sun climbs, the cicada chorus grows, and the field cricket in the garden chirps faster and faster. …

I marvel at how tall my tulip trees have grown, nonchalantly waving their leaves. "It was I who planted you! I who saved you from the deer!" …

cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket CROW CROW CROW cricket cricket cricket crick …

A pileated woodpecker heading for the tall locusts lets out a whoop with every wingbeat, its crest like the bloody barb of a harpoon. …

A titmouse combs the dead cherry tree for insects, his black seed of an eye and wizard's cap bobbing as he snaps at shriveled leaves. …

A hummingbird defending her patch of soapwort buzzes an ovenbird, who walks back and forth on the cherry branches in his big pink feet. …

A still morning. Dew drips from the top roof onto the porch roof. Each birdcall—woodpecker, towhee, jay—is surrounded by acres of silence. …

The Morning Porch