Doves
Wall in the backyard, a gray stain of rain.They come every day, hungry, and they perch.
Pale rays of sunlight to warm up their pain,
Looking for crumbles, on the floor they search.
Careful, attentive, resolved to descend.
A stare through the window makes me comprehend.
Put an end to surveillance! Feed me, they say.
Cautiously, advisedly, the feast I'll array.
Cold winter and rain, they had to endure,
But now I just hear them coo in the morning,
With classical grace, courtyard adorning,
happily, cheerfully, feeling secure.
For all of the creatures that heaven loves,
God's favorites are the peaceful doves.
Poetry by Golden Minotaur
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Written on 2025-07-23 at 22:30
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