THE DOVES
The hibiscus leaves rustled in the morning air,
Revealing a treasure within...
There shielded within the trees’ branches,
Nest building was about to begin.
The Doves had been fluttering by all day,
With slim branches and twigs in there beaks...
Announcing to us their presence,
Cooing as if to speak – Glad you know we’re here!
With great delight we watched them,
In some way feeling akin...
As dear memories stirred within us
Of the young parents we once had been.
Years ago we were like the sweet Doves,
When we built our own special nest...
Caring for our young ones,
With passion and with zest.
Precious memories resurfaced,
Ones’ we haven’t felt in years...
Of the love and nurturing within our hearts
Gently expressed by tears.
© Copyright 2017 Myra Wexler Darwish
Myra Wexler Darwish
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I was fortunate once to have wrens build a nest in a fern I hung in my apartment balcony. Watching them bring hundreds of little green worms to the babies in an endless cycle was wonderful to watch their dedication to parenthood.
This morning we have mourning doves and white wing doves at our bird feeder. Pairs will spend the afternoon in our small backyard searching for food, visiting the birdbath for a drink and lounging in the shade. They are such peaceful, caring individuals.
Ron