Mourning Dove
Sunday morning in late WinterNearly tastes of SpringSmall signs of life, though still coldBut no you The trees blossom pink and whiteLittle leaf buds red and orangeSmall signs of life, though still coldBut no you Peering through my windowAs that sheltered scene unfurlsSmall signs of life, though still coldBut no you A cat sleeps in the window across mineMourning dove preening on a nearby…








