RSS Feed

Mourning Dove Morning

Outside of any proper season,
this cool, damp morning—
A painting, not white-washed,
rinsed in watered gray silk,
world where words are muffled–
the quiet murmur of walkers passing my porch.
Even the cars–their motors whisper Hush into the
Road, which answers with a rain wash shush
and below all these, the beat of this day’s
softened heart, the call over and over
of the mourning dove, this morning dove.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Shades of Gray - Denison TX

Photographer of Life in North TX & points beyond

Red Wolf Poems

Prompting new poems for Red Wolf Journal

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: