Doves of Peace
Doves are roosting in an old oak tree
unafraid of winter’s bite.
Catching last rays of a fading sun.
It appears they’re parked there for the night.
Next door earlier the little birds fed,
raking out of the feeders a generous store,
covering the ground with abundant seed;
the Doves ate hungrily and wanted no more.
Now light is fading from December’s Earth.
The Doves are the color of the leafless limb.
Silhouetted conspicuously against a light blue
sky, resting in perfect peace, lazily they primp.
The little birds have all disappeared
with the coming of dusk, where do they go?
In early morning they will return,
feeders will swing to a melodious tone.
Life is all around me, peace perfect peace.
I have no more care than the Doves.
God is controlling the passing of time.
Day’s deeds are done in the essence of love.
Wesley J. Allen
12-26-2006
By ArtisticPoet48
© 2008 ArtisticPoet48
(All rights reserved)
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