February 2010
8 posts
Morning Dove
I heard a song when that day broke free from a wounded dove lying beneath a willow tree.
Her coat was worn, tattered and dirty, but she must have known she would find a fool like me…
to come wash her clean.
and stitch up her seams.
Then came the fall with the change of leaves. She had found her strength; she was leaving for the sea.
I was waiting for this tragedy; then her wings got...
“A lot of people attack the sea, I make love to it.”
– Jacques Yves Cousteau
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