The Mourning Doves
In my maple, the gentle mourning doves nest
The handsome gray male coos outside the window
His feathery nature sounds welcome me to each day
Their nest hides among the leaves, and I survey it
Morning tea time belongs to these pleasant fowl
Silly me, I call them Lucy and Ricky softly
Distinctly, tasks for them simply done...
He, the nest and food---she seclusively sits waiting
Surprisingly, I fancy them, long to touch them
These graceful birds engage, thus my laughter comes naturally
Female nuzzling grabs the male's attention...he responds
Jumping in a ritualistic dance, they coo together
My male dove thinks a cat’s too close and
Draws the feline away by feigning broken wing…
Just as the cat pounces, he swoops up
Too close to death, but no one asks me
Musing about my forever mated, beautiful birds
Sharing this nature experience...and their devotion
From now till always, I will embrace the day
Joyfully filled with hope for the time to come
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