Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Dancing Doves

Leaf shimmer,
bough quiver,
seed scatter,
sunlight splatter,
frenzied wing flurry,
claw and beak scurry.

A stoop away, the hawk eye
fixes and then
the slate drops from the sky.

Feathers skatted,
blood matted,
an anvil’s stone face
fused with gut and bone.
All but one have flown.
Cruel claw rules alone.

A glide away,
not far for the saved to stray,
without a backward glance,
the doves resume their dance.

1 comment:

  1. You have made these rather less than elegant birds sound almost lovely. I love the way your lines scan making the rhyming sound so natural and far from contrived.