The Dove

In the spring Of spreading wings he dove took flight In dawns gentle light And the roses celebrated In joyous tears of dew The stirring of the breeze Playing in the colors Of the rainbow, In the summer Of zenith flight The dove soared high Above The clouds Drizzling caressing rain Upon the blooming roses Rejoicing in fragrant ecstasy The passion Of the flowering wind Running in the moonlight, In the autumn of descent The dove was drenched Amidst the scattering rain And the rose wilted In the twilight Of the tempest, In the winter Of broken wings The morning dove limped In the midnight withering The roses yearned For the rays of the sun And the moon Was a sickle Barely seen, The heavy rain subsided Into drizzle The somber clouds Were blown about By changing winds Forming clouds of changing shapes.