Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Tree House

out of nowhere 
one mourning 
dove alighting, 

foraging, finding 
twig after twig 
on the carpet 

of bunched up needles, 
picking just what it needs 
for the finishing 

touches to its twiggy home
artfully hidden somewhere
in the no longer lonesome pine. 


  1. Vassilis,

    if you just happened to be reading the entire Old Testament (as I'm presently doing), you might be tempted to see that dove alighting or needleleaf floor or the nest's hidden presence in the trees as delightful religious iconography.

    But I won't: I'll just leave it at that brief unexpected moment of pure joy recorded in verse.

  2. Thanks, Conrad for making us see this poem in a whole new light.

  3. Thank you, Tom. We used to have many more mourning doves than we do now busily making their nests but the crows and magpies make short shrift of the little eggs before they can hatch.


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