The Morning Porch

June 18, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Everything still drips from last night’s storm. I abandon the porch for a quick hike before the heat.

June 29, 2025
Partly cloudy, humid and still. A hen turkey clucks once from the woods’ edge. I slap myself awake, killing mosquitoes.
June 29, 2024
Heavily overcast; 88% humidity. I’m clapping out the lives of mosquitoes, one after another—too big and slow for their own good. A breeze springs up.
June 29, 2022
Cold and clear. Three waxwings join the sun high in the dead crown of a black locust, yellow bellies aglow.
June 29, 2021
Sunny and hot. The meadows hum with insects. In the marsh, a male and female goldfinch are gathering cattail down for their nest.
June 29, 2016
On the underside of a porch railing, a hornet gathers a mouthful of wood. A small yellow leaf caught in a spiderweb twirls in the wind.