mourning doves – Page 5 – The Morning Porch

August 2, 2009

Dave Bonta August 2, 2009

Sunday morning rain is different; it’s quieter. The distant rumble I take at first for traffic on the interstate turns out to be thunder.

Dave Bonta March 29, 2009

Here in the clouds, one mourning dove has added an extra note to the beginning of his song, turning a dirge into a slow dance tune.

Dave Bonta March 4, 2009

Right after a mourning dove’s song, a screech owl trills at the very same pitch. The sun floats free of the horizon and into the bluest sky.

Dave Bonta March 3, 2009

Cold air, bright sun. Snow-motes drift down from a cloudless sky. A mourning dove’s song. Dad calls to tell me Mom’s having dizzy spells.

Dave Bonta January 29, 2009

A dozen doves take flight all at once—a confusion of flutes. From the almost-finished house a quarter mile away, the scream of a power saw.

Dave Bonta December 13, 2008

Why do I get up? For two trains blowing at once, one high, one low. For the full moon sinking through icy branches. For mourning dove wings.

Dave Bonta April 4, 2008

Somewhere in the fog, a red-winged blackbird, a pair of mourning doves, a robin, a flock of finches. Half an hour later, nothing but rain.

Dave Bonta March 23, 2008

Easter Sunday dawns clear and cold. The yard is stippled with fresh tracks. Quiet except for a mourning dove and a red-bellied woodpecker.

Dave Bonta December 31, 2007

Rose-tinged feathers puffed out against the fresh snow, the mourning doves look delicious! Their wingbeats are a marriage of fife and drum.