accipiter – Page 2 – The Morning Porch

December 11, 2010 by Dave Bonta

The boom of a rifle. A small hawk glides through the trees, lands between me and the faint yellow blotch of sun and waggles its tail.

April 15, 2013December 4, 2009 by Dave Bonta

A squirrel foraging in the leaves suddenly streaks for the nearest tree, barely escaping the sharp-shinned hawk hurtling through the forest.

September 17, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Some small hawk has been calling since first light, hidden in the treetops: soft brief cries, soon joined by a chorus of its enemies.

June 17, 2025
The white noise of cicadas gives voice to the fog. I spot a second-year common mullein just beginning to raise her flagpole, velvety leaves wearing coats of cloud.
June 17, 2024
Clear and still. A flicker’s eponymous chant from the sunlit crown of a black locust. The black raspberries in my yard are already blood-red.
June 17, 2023
Sun through thin clouds. A silent crow skims the treetops where a cuckoo coos. Someone’s offsprings beg for more breakfast.
June 17, 2022
Wind has blown all the humidity out to sea. The forest is astir with its comings and goings, until I can barely remain seated.
June 17, 2021
The third gorgeous morning in a row. I could sit here forever, gaping at the light through the trees, if only it would last.