The Morning Porch

November 18, 2020 by Dave Bonta

Overcast and cold. A squirrel is picking up fallen black walnuts, removing their rotten husks, and burying them in the half-frozen yard.

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A late-morning brightness in the clouds. A white-breasted nuthatch descending a tall black locust turns right-side-up.
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Rising late, what have I missed? The sky is white and the air is dead still. There’s no snow. The usual birds are making their…
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Bright sun, icy breeze. A few flakes zoom past. The only cloud is tiny and dissolves as I watch, leaving the sky to the fourth-quarter…