The doves arrive, gentle creatures
heads bobbing as they walk,
plucking stray seeds blown free across the ground.
Paired matches, clutching together
in the softly shadowed rays
of early morning sun to welcome the day.
Peerless counterparts, solitary and alone
scanning the demarcation zones
marked and policed by energetic squirrels.
Boundaries are set, locked in place
periphery margins of time and space
held orderly by the season.
Winter, spring, majestic intertwined interludes
painted purple, black, blue, creamy orange
by intermittent cold and warmth rising and falling.
Signs of the time, forewarning harbingers
of time cycled in conscientious discreteness
dandle acclimation to greet the age of change.
The doves come, peering through the gleam
of light and its reflected mirrored surfaces
long methodic glances at the systematic march of time.
Categories:
discreteness, bird, earth, seasons, time,
Form: Free verse
White full moon, with orange glow
Encircled by angelic halo
Illuminating a blue black night
Your discreteness is so polite
A trail through the ocean you draw
No fear of becoming banal
Teasing the dreams of lovers
Hide and seek with clouds for cover
Dancing in yesterday's sand
Your romantic aquatic reprimand
Erasing footprints left behind
Lost forever to time
We dance in multicolored beams
With new hope from bright moon dreams
As you heal the scars of the day
In solace our hearts can play
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
discreteness, dream, hope, moon, solitude,
Form: Rhyme