The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta March 6, 2020

Weak sun. Squirrels rummage through the dead grass, studiously ignoring each other, pretending they’re not really after buried treasure.

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January 22, 2024
Between moonset and dawn, a dark hour filled with the sound of freight trains. I hold my head still to watch Venus slip through the…
January 22, 2023
Sky the color of faded jeans. It’s cold. The crash of a dead limb falling from the treetops where two female squirrels are eluding suitors.
January 22, 2022
The coldest morning of the year so far. Every few minutes, a tree with ice in its heartwood cracks like a gunshot. The ridge turns…
January 22, 2021
Half an hour before sunrise, the first inquisitive chirps: mockingbird. A snow-free caesura in the road where the spring flows under it.
January 22, 2020
Classic January morning: clear sky, very still, very cold. A lone crow’s harangue. The furnace stopping in mid-rumble as the power goes out.