Sunday, April 14, 2019

National Poetry Writing Month Fourteen


Dove Tail Tales

Their call was familiar
before their appearance

Morning feeders
at breakfast time

Feathers smoothed to seamlessness
multiple shades of tan, beige, brown

Not white but
still peaceful

Too large for the perch so they sat in the seeds
until Dad bought a mix that repelled them

Now they peck through his grasses

A sound I know from summers
sister and I sharing a bed

Waking to unfamiliar plaintive notes
visiting his farm back when Grandpa lived

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