Aubade (Inca Dove)
Such delicacy
evokes the evolution of hand
and wing, a growth
reflecting all we’ve come
to know. Two doves
sit on the fence, cold wind ruffling
their feathers. What brings them
to this place of no
shelter, of wind and rain
and clarity defied? Fingers
often remember what the mind
cannot. Silence
complicates our mornings.
This last appeared here in February 2018, and was originally published in The Balcones Review in 1987. Seems I was enthralled with birds back then, too…
O at the Edges 
Beautifully crafted as usual. Maybe it’s just free association, but your two doves reminded me of those two riders approaching the watchtower in Hendrix/Dylan. Well, honestly, sorry Bob, but they reminded me of the howling guitar in the Hendrix version more than the howling harmonica in Dylan 🙂
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Thanks, Gary. Oh, those howling, silent, stoic doves!
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Watch out! They may seem silent and stoic, but they are an ominous sign, just like those two riders in the Dylan song. “Surely some revelation is at hand,” saith the poet.
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“Chickadee flits
disappears into hedge;
Silence complicates our mornings.”
I just had to improvise this little free-form haiku out of that great final line of yours!
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Silence has a way of enhancing my day!
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which is only fitting for one of such a complicated nature… 😉
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I’m so simple I’m complicated. Lol!
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