One Mourning Dove
At my kitchen table
On a cold and sunny day,
A gray dove spied and stared at me,
He took my mind away.
So still he sat outside my window,
Puffed fat against the cold,
Once I think I heard him mourn,
So still we stayed, he bold.
He ate my bread this morning,
Pigged the birds’ sunflower seeds,
Could he be telling...
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