The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta September 14, 2018 2

The dampness thickens into drizzle. Its soundtrack: the unending trill of tree crickets. The forest begins to glisten like a salamander.

2 Comments

Ingrid Bruck
6 years ago Permalink

So glad you are back in Pennsylvania! I live nearby, so what you write here gives words to the great beauty that I see around me. Not that I minded England, thanks for sharing your journey there with us. Is glad you got to expand your world across the ocean in step withy your new marriage.
1. Dave Bonta
  6 years ago Permalink
  
  Thanks for the comment. When I’m in London I miss the mountain, and when I’m here I miss Rachel. That’s human existence in a nutshell, I guess.

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December 28, 2023
Sun almost shining through the fog. A winter wren warbles from the marsh. Up by the garage, bluebirds. It feels like March, with December light.
December 28, 2022
Thin clouds at sunrise with the blue just visible, like faded jeans. A crow has a brief exchange with his echo.
December 28, 2020
Two degrees above freezing, but it feels balmy. I try to guess the sun’s position by the relative brightness of thin spots in the clouds.
December 28, 2019
After days of a heavy inversion layer, it’s quiet at last. The snow’s gone. From a hole in the yard I can hear water trickling…
December 28, 2018
Foggy and damp. Small flies—or large midges—drift back and forth. A few branches high in the big tulip tree appear to be freshly debarked.