Our grain cylinder, outside my writing window,
hangs one inch from the glass...
The reason is to keep it dry....under the eaves
during the coming monsoons...
It can melt.
Oft a white wing dove lands on the wrought
iron decor
and you hear a "BONK..."
Have you ever seen one from four feet away?
their gray wings fold close to
their bodies, and a beautiful strip of white
shows under each wing
With a smaller strip of blue, under that...
A white wing dove is not, by any means, the
brightest, most colorful bird ever
created (out of maybe ten thousand), but it's
simple beauty is amazing....
It's neck is long, exquisitely curved, up to
its head...it's overall color is a
medium gray...its eyes are bright and alert
and it has that jerky nerve system
birds have
Which causes it to, not slowly turn its head,
but in one movement it looks
two inches---that way---and three inches this
way...and it looks between almost
every bite, and the glances
are aimed at me...for he is a little suspicious
of the window, my little animals atop
the bookshelf, the light over my writing table,
and all the strange sights here
where I write.
(It all amazes me sometimes.)
But the breakfast grain is too tempting for him---
and so he grabs three beaks-full
and jerkily checks me...two beaks-full...and
checks me....ever wary
and uneasy.
I, in turn, surreptitiously as possible, grab
a spoonful of Cheerios as often as
I can...though I am more interested in this
event that is taking place...
Being somewhat of a poet at heart, I often
muse when I see the Earth's miracles,
and I ponder God's creation:
Was the "Third Day" an eon when much
was taking place...
It must have taken time to design it all...
thousands of species of trees, flowers,
plants, animals...not even counting the
beautiful mountains, rivers, springs...
Is the Earth the finale and masterpiece
of God's whole creation...with us
as his eternal "companions?"
A bonk on the glass-- the dove has turned---
brings me back to the moment,
and as I forget and reach for my coffee,
Mr. Dove sees my sudden move...
And he is gone.
Little flecks on the glass, where he burped,
teach me that doves
are messy eaters.
*******************
BY MIL
27 June 16
0713 hours
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