Aubade: Mourning-dove

Dawn fires

the cold roses

one-

at-

a-time, 

when, with

planetary urge,

all explode to

vermillion

conflagration.

Then the cherry tree,

plain in

drab leaf,

erupts into

emerald

glory,

and high

from the bright rooftop

the mourning-dove

sings

his low, plaintive

song of 

love.

(15 June 2014)

At the Bird-feeder

Rushing, pushing

the sparrows shove;

pulsing wings

beating the air,

all for a bounty 

of unexpected feed!

When drops two doves.

 Wings folded,

they plaintively call;

seed of plenty

gently falls.

(9 May 2015)

once it begins

once it begins

i cannot stop

nor would i wish to

end the torrent of words

crush of photons

bright weight of day

driving dark worlds

through eternal space

trains howling

poems careening

through silver morning

where i sing

out my

warning