Dad – The Morning Porch

December 9, 2012 by Dave Bonta

A flat-gray sky. Train whistles and quarry noise travel up the hollow, accompanying two overlapped umbrellas, one black, one white.

September 29, 2012 by Dave Bonta

From up behind my parents’ house, some vaguely melodic notes: a blue jay? Or my father whistling as he hangs out the laundry?

March 12, 2025
Overcast at sunrise, the clouds begin to show cracks of blue. A song sparrow continues with his hip-hip-hurrahing long after the others have gone off…
March 12, 2024
The sun climbs through bare trees while I’m not looking, lost in blue like the titmouse with his endless diatribe.
March 12, 2023
Back with the old bank, Daylight Savings and Loan. A fuzzy gibbous moon. Something stirring in the juniper and going back to sleep.
March 12, 2022
Snow falling fast in silence. A song sparrow pipes up with what generations of birders have heard as “Hip hip hurrah, boys, spring is here!”
March 12, 2021
Snow is gone from the north side of the springhouse roof; the stream has a whole new range of notes. Up by the barn, a…