A sole Dove

House of Heart

Deeper than the Mariana Trench
more rare than a conch pearl,
The finest cognac glowing in baroque,
Belle lettrés from the crest of a tree.

 

In my periphery I see you.
My breathing stops to listen
for sounds of our existence.
 
A sole dove swoops into
the crown of a tree
quiescent in a forked bough.
The cardinals fly in,
a brilliant male  and his drab mate,
nature’s biased humor.
Captivated  by his beauty
she watches him fly away.
Without the will to fly alone, the lone dove lingers.

 

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