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By the Way a Mourning Dove Cooed
By the way a mourning dove cooed
Deliberately out of sight
And moved me to rise from bed
With my own jingle in heart
And July's breath stills the pond
In its disarming manner
And robs the chimes of their song
And warms the oleander
And the way a cottontail
Sits and stirs among the grass
And a quail stands atop the wall
And doesn't mind my presence
And the storm clouds were splintered
To let a golden haze form dawn -
I can feel that something profound
And blessed is about to happen.
Copyright ©
Amy Michelle Mosier
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