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Mourning Doves

Hear the soft coo—a coo that faithful love imparts;
Mourning doves, they share as one, two beating hearts.

On summer’s eaves of pine, they build their lofty nests;
Tender eggs are tucked beneath warm nurturing breasts.

Oval-shaped, snowy white, hatched alive,
Fledglings find their downy wings—learn to survive.

Speckled gray and black, they gracefully take flight.
Unfurled tails fan out, reveal a fringe of white.

Halcyon days of summer, coming to an end;
Heading for the border, they quietly ascend.

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Paulette Calasibetta is a retired interior designer. Her poetry has appeared on line and in print in numerous journals and anthologies.

3 Responses

    • Paulette Calasibetta

      Thank you Roy. I have a special affection for Doves; watching them each day is truly a gift of peace.

      Reply
  2. Scharlie Meeuws

    I love doves! They are just as you portray them, Paulette, gentle, sweet, loving. I have a couple nesting in our cherry tree, each year they build faithfully their nest and attend equally to their fledglings….a great example of how our world should be….
    ”doves they share as one….two beating hearts”….

    Reply

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