Sound of the Mourning Dove
I woke to the lonesome sound of the mourning dove
Drawn to the sight of her, resting on the branch
Cautiously watching the others all around her
Yet she remained there, separate and alone
Calling out for something . . .
Tears burned my eyes, but did not fall
Softly I whispered to her
I know little bird
I know . . .
May 9th, 2009 at 6:39 pm
So in life we all do the same thing no matter where we are or what we are doing. It takes a small coo of a dove to bring us back to reality.
May 13th, 2009 at 7:28 am
Hi there Miss Cricket. Glad you finally posted one good poem to match your photographs. Sure you don’t mine being a regular commenter of your blog?
Thanks,
Jay a.k.a raphnix