The Mourning Dove

Early dawn    I walked alone
barefoot on warm pavement
shorts on my summer legs
and came upon a mourning dove

I’d heard one from afar
many times before       its crooning
a soft blanket on my shoulders

I followed    careful       silent
Violet feathers shone pink and gold
under grey sky and faded moon

Then      it fluttered and sang for me

full-throated and pure

an offering      a psalm of sadness

and light