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.

September 11, 2025
Clear and still, with dew dripping off the roof and a pair of phoebes yelling “Phoebe!” at each other. Twenty-four years ago, the sky was just this clear.
September 11, 2024
Another gorgeous, cool morning. Two ravens fly over at sunrise, croaking. A phoebe in the distance is just audible under the usual cascade of wren song.
September 11, 2023
Still overcast, but with a bit of a breeze. From the woods’ edge, the chick-burr call of a scarlet tanager. A chipmunk’s incessant metronome.
September 11, 2022
Steady rain of the sort we’ve needed for months. Lily-of-the-valley’s drought-burnt leaves turn slick as tongues.
September 11, 2021
Dawn. A coyote yipping and howling in the distance. The old hornets’ nest under the eaves gives birth to a Carolina wren.