Monday September 23, 2019

Dave Bonta September 23, 2019 2

A spliff-shaped cloud drifts past. The rose bush reminds me of the old blues lyric: The way you wear them dresses, the sun keeps shining through…

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A swarm of maple helicopters. I sneeze and a wren begins to sing. A kinglet rotates in time to the music. We're in this dance together. …

Brighter color between the trees: sunrise. Gray as their trunks: a doe and her grown fawns. From down hollow, a screech owl's trill. …

Cloudy and cold. The soft back-and-forth of sparrows flitting between woods and meadow. The distant keening of an ambulance. …

The thought-cancelling roar of military jets just over the ridge. Overhead, only a commercial jet like a mote in a clear blue eye. …

Back after a week away, I gaze into a grayer, more open forest. The wind makes forays to rustle in the fallen leaves. A titmouse scolds. …

Cold rain. Three sparrows forage in the weeds next to a barberry bush, its green branches harboring masses of blood-red berries. …

A series of loud sneezes from the dead goldenrod at the woods' edge where a deer must be bedded down. A junco forages in the stiltgrass. …

Two pileated woodpeckers forage in the birches, scarlet crests glowing in the sun, the sky below them in the windshield of a parked truck. …

Mid-morning: the first patch of blue, little larger than a moon. In the old lilac below the other house, a Carolina wren bursts into song. …

In the middle of a still morning, a strange enthusiasm suddenly infects the birds, flitting, calling, gleaning, grooming, under a dull sky. …

Four chickadees glean frozen bugs from one skinny branch of the dead elm. Through newly porous trees, a 30-second glimpse of the rising sun. …

The Morning Porch/Patio