The Morning Porch

September 23, 2024 by Dave Bonta

Drizzle before dawn, settling into steady rain by daybreak. At the woods’ edge, two chirps from a towhee and the soft call of a migrant thrush.

September 15, 2025
There’s more yellow than ever in the woods’ edge trees, in the spicebushes, in the meadows filled with goldenrod, and now the sun—the opposite of mellow among the yellow leaves of a black birch.
September 15, 2024
Quiet and cool. A hummingbird hovers over the bright pink cover of my book: Phantom Pain Wings by Kim Hyesoon.
September 15, 2023
43F/6C an hour after sunrise. Not a cloud in the sky. Black walnuts crash down at random intervals.
September 15, 2022
A high cloud ceiling full of holes. In the meadow, one snakeroot flower nods: hummingbird.
September 15, 2021
Dawn is its own thing—not just a transition, I think, as fog forms and grows. When it lifts, the no-longer-dark meadow glows goldenrod-yellow.