Doves
They land with delicate step
to watch with
eyes
so serious
to fly again
if we come to close
Their lives are lived
in harsh gray
landscapes
they beg for clean skies
their crys echo down forlorn
streets
In wet shadows of winter
under structures
which
tower above them they shiver
Still you can hear
the sound of soft
wings
fluttering when all is still in the city
and the drip of
water is loud
in the silence
and the cry of the dove
hangs in
the air
to echo in our dreams
of a green space where
we can
watch them
dance in the sky
in a dream
Julie
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