The Morning Porch

March 12, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Back below freezing. The word breeze no longer fits the low winds, full of bite and lightly salted with snow.

March 16, 2025
Dawn arrives between showers. I think about all the cicada larvae of Brood XIV stirring under the ground, preparing for the last and most eventful…
March 16, 2024
The sun finally clears the one, thin cloud above the horizon only to disappear into a thicket. The robin has taken a break, so the…
March 16, 2023
Sunrise into slow-moving cirrus; the light dulls like the eyes of a dying fish. In the windless calm, the long gargle of an 18-wheeler descending…
March 16, 2022
Only one, tiny patch of snow remains in view, sheltering on the north side of a laurel thicket. A cowbird’s liquid note.
March 16, 2021
Under low, heavy clouds, the air is still. I listen for the patter of raindrops but all I hear is a nuthatch, some crows, a…