The Morning Porch

April 22, 2025 by Dave Bonta

Cloudy with patches of light and dark and the smell of burnt caramel from town. The woods’ edge is gauzy with catkins and tiny leaves. A hint of moisture on my cheek.

July 6, 2025
A cool and humid sunrise, with the silence of a long holiday weekend continuing to linger. The buzz of a hummingbird. A firefly goes past with his unlit lantern.
July 6, 2024
Breezy and a bit less humid. A low buzz below the porch, where orange jewelweed attracts a ruby-throated hummingbird. A low rumble from my own stomach.
July 6, 2023
A still morning. A half-grown walnut lets go of its branch while I’m looking at it, prompting an odd feeling of guilt.
July 6, 2022
Some unscheduled sunshine from a fissure in the clouds, while the breeze whispers of distant storms. I scratch a new itch to redness.
July 6, 2021
In the growing heat, a wood pewee flies from perch to perch, singing, circling the house. I feel as if I’m being ensorcelled.

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