The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta April 28, 2025 0

Sunrise gutters in a gray bank of clouds. It’s cold. My breath hangs in the air like winter’s ghost.

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April 28, 2024
Fog at dawn, raucous with the calls of a whip-poor-will staking his claim to the woods’ edge, close enough that I can hear him clear…
April 28, 2023
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Mid-morning, and the sun looks almost as if it might come out. A turkey gobbles right below the other house, puffing out his chest feathers.