Summer Treasures
Three doves sitting
in my gnarled old
apple tree
deciding where to
breakfast and
if it might be
that the blackbirds
have left them
a rare kernel
on the ground.
and if not,
where it was likely
that the next meal
could be found.
But the minute
that I open
the storm door,
to speak, they fly.
and don't stop
'til out of danger
from a villain,
such as I.
I'd like to tell them
they are welcome
and to give them
breakfast too,
But they do not
speak my language
and I haven't
learned to coo.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2016
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