dove

Small paper bird soars swimmingly to the crest of the mountain. This snow-capped range determined to stand motionless ’til the test of time reveals itself to be no one else other than God. And you cannot knock down God. God can knock you down. But no matter how hard and fast you box at shadows in the pinprick night, you will never muster enough strength or energy to even touch him. Signs of peace and something about my Roman Catholic upbringing that will always remind me of Jesus and the Lamb. Well, I love lamb. I think it tastes delicious. I love a good Mediterranean diet. Olive oil and olives, lamb and fresh herbs, bread and dolmas, feta and goat cheese, spinach. All those good, rich savory flavors of the southern European coast. It is easy to get tunnel vision by not traveling sometimes. The blinders continue to extend the longer you’re home in your house. I have been home for too long. Morning dove coos on the sill, stormy grey and pudgy looking for sustenance. I wonder now if bird chirps will get quieter as our traffic, both car and plane, have decreased in this area. A triumphant celebration of a wedding. Where do those beautiful white birds go in the afternoon sunshine? I hope they make it somewhere nice.

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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