Could Be Anywhere...
See the single, ragged dove
he pecks at the fresh washed earth
then stops to scan his surroundings.
He raises his wings seemingly
with lethargy and great effort
coo’s wistfully as he searches ‘round.
His efforts look like auto-pilot,
actions robot-like, without life
like it doesn’t matter at all.
Yet, he continues with his activities
feeding himself without real conviction
always looking about...lost and alone.
Remembering reading somewhere
these creatures mate for life
where i wonder is this forlorn bird’s mate?
Companion selected and years invested
must be what he searches for...life lost
understanding of his pain floods the watcher.
Great is the sorrow, the empathy
the futility of understanding the tragic
going about ones life empty, apathetic, alone.
Wondering if this poor creature’s mate
ran off with a slick, deceitful mockingbird
leaving him forever, true to nature...mourning?
[This message has been edited by Tramp Poet (08-11-2003 02:25 PM).]