brome – The Morning Porch

December 27, 2013 by Dave Bonta

The sun flickers as thin clouds drift past. In the otherwise still meadow, one bent head of brome grass is swaying.

February 7, 2013 by Dave Bonta

Chickadees scold something hidden in the treetops. I can’t stop looking at a dried bromegrass leaf—its ornate curlicues against the snow.

January 10, 2011 by Dave Bonta

I study the twists and curlicues of dried brome grass against the snow. If I knew Arabic, I’m sure I’d find some of the 99 names of God.

November 12, 2025
Cold and gray, with the wind hissing through the last few oak leaves still on the trees. The male Carolina wren sleeps in past his mate, her ‘response’ preceding his call by nearly five minutes.
November 12, 2024
An hour past sunrise, the sky is half blue. The two-year-old tulip tree inside its cage of fencing waves a last, yellow leaf.
November 12, 2023
Sun through thin, high clouds—enough to make the last few scarlet oak crowns glow. An ambulance wails through the gap.
November 12, 2022
A lull in the rains. The transition from a watercolor world to pencil-brown and charcoal-gray is nearly complete.
November 12, 2021
Clouds scudding against clouds, and here and there faint suggestions of blue: a clearing wind, complete with the obligatory exultant raven.