The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta March 28, 2025 0

Sunrise from under a lid of cloud turning the ridge orange. The robin sings a few bars. A propellor plane fades into the distance.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Previous Post: Previous Post

Next Post: Next Post

March 31, 2024
Sunrise past, the sky goes gray. The damp woods smell of earth and leaf-mold. The old lilac bristles with bright green buds.
March 31, 2023
Gray and still. A robin sings softly for a change. Two whitetails below my mother’s back porch bound up the hillside and out of sight.
March 31, 2022
April showers a day early. The raspy calls of a wild turkey leading five companions out of the woods and off down the road.
March 31, 2021
The sort of rain that makes the world puddle-wonderful. Around the broken old dog statue, the daffodils have drawn their yellow hoop.
March 31, 2019
Snow mixed with sleet. The feral balloons have wrapped themselves more tightly around their tree—a classic trade of freedom for security.