Three Doves

Three doves sitting in my gnarled old apple tree,
Deciding where to breakfast and the possibility
That the blackbirds might have left them
A rare kernel on the ground,
And if not, where it was likely
That their next meal could be found.

The robins and the starlings are all set to catch some worms;
But a dove is much too gentle to eat anything that squirms.
I'd like to join their conversation
Try to make them understand
For the pleasure of their presence
I would feed them from my hand.

But the minute that I open the storm door to speak, they fly
And don't stop 'til out of danger from a villain such as I.
They've heard stories of some pigeons who were made into a pie;
That all humans are untrustworthy and are even known to lie.
I'd like to tell them they are welcome
And to bring them breakfast too,
But they do not speak my language
And I haven't learned to coo.

By: Joyce 2/07/07