The Morning Porch

October 11, 2020October 11, 2020 by Dave Bonta

I am mentally marking walnut saplings for removal when they fill with migrants: yellow-rumped and palm warbler, ruby-crowned kinglet.

September 22, 2025
The first rain in weeks begins tapping on the roof at dawn. Then it’s here in a rush, the bone-dry leaf duff rattling into a roar.
September 22, 2024
Under a gray sky, small birds move silently through green and gold leaves, while the wren yammers away behind the shed.
September 22, 2023
Cool but not quite as clear, with a thin, high scrim of clouds and the incessant beeping of quarry trucks, to which a migrant phoebe briefly responds.
September 22, 2022
Lightning flickers on the horizon at dawn. The dull glow of the crescent moon’s darkened bulk reminds me that the earth also shines.
September 22, 2021
Sunrise somewhere over the rain. In the dripping forest canopy, a dark card-shuffle of wings.