The Morning Porch

January 9, 2021 by Dave Bonta

Clear and still. The tree’s long shadows stripe the white hillside like a zebra. Below the porch, a cat’s footprints.

August 13, 2025
A dawn chorus of tree crickets, field crickets and mole crickets. After a half-clear sunrise, the clouds move in.
August 13, 2024
A meteor streaks the dawn sky—a fast, yellow brushstroke. From over the ridge, the quarry’s dull grind. The first, faint twittering from the meadow.
August 13, 2023
Sun in the treetops. A Carolina wren keeps answering a flicker, as if trying to master its call. Tree crickets. A train horn.
August 13, 2022
45F/7C at sunrise. I carry a chair up into the woods, watch sunlight seep down the oaks with color commentary by a red-eyed vireo.
August 13, 2021
First light. A meteor slices through Orion below the belt, and I flinch like a spectator at a pro wrestling match.