Mourning Dove Family III (Part 2)

 Dear Victoria … I Wonder …

                                              This morning (7:30) you “twittered arrival”

                                              to relieve your mate of parental duty.

                                              The air so fresh and the breeze so light;

                                              the sky a mix of cloud and sun.

                                              My coffee I bring to a balcony chair

                                              and observe you so quiet just 10 feet away.

                                             You rest on the nest...with barely a flinch

                                              Knowing.. my home I share with you.

                                             Your dappled-spot feathers, move very slight

                                             as you slowly breathe...keeping one egg warm.

                                             (perhaps today, another white shell).

                                             For hours you sit...like an ornament on glass...

                                             never blinking an eye, or changing position.

                                             I wonder...just what, is pondering your mind!

                                            Are my squabs healthy inside their white shells?

                                            Are they 2 boys, 2 girls...or one of each?

                                            In about 2 weeks, these babes will hatch;

                                            Albert and I will be busy with care.

                                            We'll feed them, protect them, and keep them warm...

                                            'neath our feathers spread over their tiny-ness.

                                            Our parenting days are twenty four-seven.

                                            We'll share all our duties...as good parents should.         

                                            Voraciously hungry, “pigeons' milk” we'll feed them.

                                            Soon, little feathers will begin to sprout;

                                            before we know it, their wings, they can spread.

                                           If I could speak to our unborn babes,

                                           I'd tell them what's in my warm dove heart.

                                           “There are many things I really want to know,

                                           but you are  hidden inside…answers don't show.

                                           I hope and I pray...you feel you belong...

                                           never wanting to feel that you're alone.

                                          “Your father and I planned from the start,

                                          conveying to you, our dear little squabs,

                                          that straight from our hearts, created you were

                                          and you are the products of his love and mine.

                                          “It doesn't really matter if a boy or a girl...

                                          we'll both be so happy that you exist.

                                          It won't be long before you flap wings;

                                          we'll love you both and teach you to fly.”

                                         This is my “dream” as an incubating Mom,

                                          preciously nestled on Mourning Dove eggs.

                                         I thank you, House Mother, for your loving heart,

                                          providing us shelter and our lives not disturbed.

Merle Baird-Kerr ~ written May 27, 2012

To comment...scroll down...(sign in as “anonymous”)

or e-mail...inezkate@gmail.com