On a Clearing Morning
On a clearing morning I awaken,
yesterday’s ruckus subsiding;
corporal tensions having
been slept away, a dove softly
cooing on my window sill
in the flower box having made
a nest – room for both buds and
nurturing…
the cat at bay, the pane a permanent
divider, every night he awakes to
consciously dream, eyes like fixed
lasers, into the dawn he salivates,
wonders of our shared mystery, why
the mouthful and he separated, by the
same God who pets and soothes, calls him
precious…recalling the turkey they
shared – dispatched, tastefully presented
as grace…?
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