assassin bug – The Morning Porch

August 17, 2016 by Dave Bonta

A yellow tulip tree leaf lies face-down on the porch floor. Nearby, an assassin bug crouches like a martial artist when I move my foot.

August 10, 2011 by Dave Bonta

Power out, I spend the morning on the porch. A large, black assassin bug lands on the sunny side of a column and stalks up toward the roof.

October 15, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Cold rain rattles in the leaves. On the side of the house, an assassin bug with huge hind legs—about to die, it seems, with his boots on.

March 13, 2025
Red not where the sun rises but where the clouds are thin, off to the north. A silent crow takes a seat in the treetops.…
March 13, 2024
Thin clouds gone faintly pink. Under the endless robin song, a winter wren sings burbling accompaniment to the creek.
March 13, 2023
A fresh inch of wet snow, clinging to every twig—the forest refoliated in white. But already the roof has begun to drip.
March 13, 2022
10F/-12C but the wind has mostly died. The plastic flamingo leans only slightly askew in the snowy garden. Patches of blue converge overhead.
March 13, 2021
The temperature’s back below freezing—the price we pay for such an achingly blue sky. Up by the garage, a field sparrow’s accelerating chant.