lilac – Page 13 – The Morning Porch

May 23, 2009

Dave Bonta May 23, 2009

The lilacs are fading fast. Where did the spring go? A hummingbird moth pays court to the dame’s-rockets—the new avatars of purple scent.

Dave Bonta May 7, 2009 1

I breathe deeply each time the white lilac’s scent wafts across the yard. Behind it, through the half-leafed-out trees, shards of white sky.

Dave Bonta April 19, 2009

Gray sky. Distant drumming of a grouse—so faint, it could be the mountain’s own heartbeat. A rabbit in the lilac scratches behind its ear.

Dave Bonta April 12, 2009

A ray of sun penetrating the lilac illuminates the two daffodils at the base of its hind legs, and the dog statue stands on yellow stars.

Dave Bonta April 11, 2009

In the cold rain, a pair of phoebes sit on a branch of the lilac overhanging my sidewalk, flicking their tails and gazing at the portico.

Dave Bonta April 3, 2009

A warm east wind. Curtains of rain on the almost-open buds of red maple, pussy willow, daffodils, and lilac leaves like green bishop’s hats.

Dave Bonta February 22, 2009

White sky. The soft calls of a pair of downy woodpeckers on adjacent trees. Four chickadees on a high-speed chase tear through the lilac.

Dave Bonta January 12, 2009

The moon comes out, and there’s the rabbit, crouching next to the lilac. It races across the driveway and disappears into the cattails.

Dave Bonta January 11, 2009

Spots of blood in the snow at the woods’ edge. An odd, foot-long circumflex hangs in the top branches of the lilac like a snowy mustache.

Dave Bonta December 21, 2008

Snow whitening the lilac. And here come the cardinals to pose photogenically in the midst of it: loud and obvious red; subtle tan and ochre.

Dave Bonta November 23, 2008

The moon inches upward through the trees with the earth’s glowing shadow between its horns. Two train whistles converge, one high, one low.

Dave Bonta November 13, 2008

Through a curtain of cold rain, the lilac’s thinning collection of stamps from the countries of summer, green-gold against the gray woods.

Dave Bonta November 10, 2008

The urgent grunts of a buck in rut chasing two does through the laurel, their movements easy to follow now that the trees are nearly bare.

Dave Bonta October 28, 2008

The French lilac, unseasonably green; Japanese barberries flaunting too-numerous fruit; me with my steaming Ethiopian brew, rain in my face.