The Morning Porch

January 18, 2026 by Dave Bonta

Another dusting of snow. An hour past sunrise, the clouds above the ridge ease open just enough for the sun to glower through for two minutes.

July 10, 2025
Up for moonset and sunrise—both hidden by clouds. The dark yard, punctuated by the apostrophes of top-heading garlic, has a crow for a rooster.
July 10, 2024
Here and there, the bracken in my yard is beginning to turn yellow. A hummingbird buzzes past, pausing to inspect several garlic heads.
July 10, 2023
Clearing after sunrise. A Carolina wren lands briefly on my open book, between two haiku.
July 10, 2022
Crystal-clear and cool—a perfect morning to sit and write. When I look up an hour later, a new spiderweb glistens in the eaves.
July 10, 2021
A male hummingbird buzzes in to the bergamot patch, but sips nectar from the soapwort instead. The catbird improvises on a towhee’s tune.