10/7/2023

Dave Bonta October 7, 2023

Rain clouds moving out by mid-morning, when blue sky appears, revealing a higher layer of cirrus moving west while shreds of cumulus keep flying east.

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10/7/2023

October 27, 2023
Dark at sunrise, but only a sprinkle of rain. Up in the woods, a deer rustles through freshly fallen leaves, breakfasting on acorns.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2022
Dawn. Clouds glow with the lights from town. The great bulk of the lilac against the dark woods, trembling in the wind.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2021
The slender reed of a white-throated sparrow’s voice trembles in the wind. A hole opens in the clouds, blue and sunrise pink.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2020
The green alien at the center of my view—the sprawling old lilac—has at last begun to yellow. The wingbeats of a crow break the silence.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2018
Rain again. This is the dreariest, drabbest autumn I’ve ever seen—except for the moss and tree-bark lichens, which have never been brighter.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2017
From under a hat brim ablaze with sun, I gaze out at the stiltgrass glazed with frost. Jays in the treetops. Falling acorns tick and…
10/7/2023

October 27, 2016
Goldfinches repopulate a leafless birch and sit eating seeds. From the east, the sound of the quarry’s crusher, its breakfast of stones.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2015
With the leaves half down, I can see inside the forest again: squirrels leaping from branch to branch, a ridgetop flock, the rising sun.
10/7/2023

October 27, 2014
A ragged flock of geese too low for the alembic of distance to mellow their calls. But I hear each wingbeat, see the sun on…
10/7/2023

October 27, 2013
Fourth-quarter moon in the branches of the black walnut, facing back toward the east and the first stain of dawn.

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

10/7/2023