A Collared Dove in Lanzarote


 

She is waiting on my wall

illuminated by the morning sun.

QUESTIONING.

 

I coo and make a mewing sound.

She tips her head my way to listen.

FEELING SAFER,

unsure if flying is a better option.

 

In your mushroom coat of feathers

trimmed with ermine and ebony,

are you the height of fashion?

 

YOU WAIT,

Autistic awareness, afraid of change.

Twitching, jumpy: a survivor’s constant state.

 

You weigh up my next move.

Will I leap and devour you

or simply fill your dish?

 

Experience has taught you to be hopeful,

BUT WATCHFUL.

 

Your courage is rewarded and

YOU EAT.

 

You don’t stay long.

A survivor is never sated.

That is A DANGEROUS STATE.

 

As I watch, I wonder

where you go after your daily re-fill.

 

Do you cross the ocean to Moroccan shores

or gather in dead volcano cones, pecking for the seeds

of parched plants clinging to volcanic ash

as black as your beautiful eyes?

 

Maybe you don’t go so far

partaking of rich pickings around

TOURIST TRAPS.

 

Your sojourns are a mystery,

but in your quest for sustenance,

you hone your unfathomable skill

of finding SHELTER AND FOOD.

 

You’ve become one of millions.

 

That doesn’t make you any less

BEAUTIFUL.

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sweetwater

Beautiful, this is one to read again and again and simply enjoy. sue.