A Dove One Year Becomes
Baby doves the next,
becomes no doves,
the near silence of the yard
at night, becomes my needy
ears that year, unsatiated by
toad trill or the road’s yawn,
a car or two going home,
becomes the thing I hope for
when the pine tree twitches,
Dovey, is that you.
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5 comments:
Excellently sad! Brief but relevant introspection. Road noise can sound like a yawn, kudos on a nicely made description.
that soothing gentle song is disheartening when its absence resounds. longing, longing, longing for its next chord
Well done my friend
Feliz Navidades
Absolutely beautiful!
Wonderful... you had me at the title.
I really enjoy this poem, Hannah. It captures a sense of longing in a unique way, and it makes the reader feel it, too.
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