The Morning Porch

September 25, 2021 by Dave Bonta

The unfamiliar clouds of my breath. A phoebe calling in the sun-drenched crown of a walnut tree, beneath that old slice of apple, the moon.

November 26, 2024
Rainfall stopping by sunrise. An oak leaf comes sailing out of the woods and spirals down onto the porch. Holes in the clouds open and…
November 26, 2023
Another still, cold sunrise. I watch Venus creeping through the crown of a black locust, dwindling to a point that finally vanishes behind a flotilla…
November 26, 2022
A close shot echoes off the ridge—it’s the opening day of regular firearms deer season. The sun moves slowly through the trees, dimming, blazing.
November 26, 2021
Snow on the ground and in the air. When the wind eddies around to the east, a great flock of shriveled leaves lifts off from…
November 26, 2020
A few blue fissures in the clouds. A tree sparrow explores the ridges and valleys of the corrugated steel roof over the oil tanks.