The Morning Porch

January 18, 2021 by Dave Bonta

A few minutes till sunrise; the wren sounds impatient. But the clouds are heavy—overflowing, in fact. It’s light enough now to see the flakes.

August 3, 2025
Dawn. The thermometer has dropped to 50°F (10°C). Something small and dark disappears into the tall weeds beside the driveway, setting off first one, then the other Carolina wren. It never reemerges. The sun comes up.
August 3, 2024
Cool and very humid. A thin cloud forms in the treetops, shot through with sun. A screech owl trills.
August 3, 2023
An orange moon gone slightly flat hangs in the southwest at dawn. An eight-point buck grazes under the old lilac.
August 3, 2022
Cool and crystal clear. The buzz of battling hummingbirds below the porch where jewelweed has eluded the deer.
August 3, 2021
5:15. The crescent moon’s parenthesis gapes at Pleiades, which I watch until it’s subsumed into the dawn.