Monday December 03, 2018

Dave Bonta December 3, 2018

The western ridge shines golden against dark clouds for a few minutes before the sun goes in. A gunshot. The gurgling of the stream.

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A neighbor to the east is talking about his test scores. A neighbor to the west rips down an old fence. Overhead, jets hidden by the clouds. …

Back to the noise of traffic after a week in the Scottish highlands. An enormous grey pill bug scuttles past the fallen mock orange petals. …

The walnut tree beside the road is in bloom—long green catkins like fringes on antique lampshades. A least skipper flits through the meadow. …

Just audible over the tractor: a tanager's hoarse song. The male flicker flies out of its nest hole carrying an offspring's white fecal sac. …

Bright sun, sharp-edged shadows and a breeze with teeth. Still, the catbird warbles jazz, and small insects drift on glistening wings. …

An intruder—another flicker—quietly descends the elm, pokes its head in the nest hole and is promptly chased off by the current occupant. …

The robin hops down the road at his usual speed despite the cold. Five minutes later he flies out of the woods with a bright green morsel. …

A doe strains to lick the flies from the part of her back her tail can't sweep, black riders unshaken by the endless tremors in her fur. …

The black cat crouches at the edge of the meadow full of dame's-rocket. What hides, squirmed into grassy burrows, under all that purple? …

Foggy morning. A short-lived bright period brings a faint sound of traffic from I-99. I hear the hummingbird's small motor in the garden. …

The Morning Porch/Patio