Mourning Dove
by Norris Orbach

A mourning dove appeared outside my window
where no bird had been
She made a small space on the second shelf
Amid shells and rocks and twine
Settling in and declaring to the world
This was to be her home.
After some time, she flew away
But returned with a single twig
With the twig placed just right, she scrunched down.
Soon, her mate arrived with a new stick
After much movement, it joined the first
Not many sticks made the nest,
But the doves seemed content.
The female sat still for so long
We thought she was dying
And the male stayed gone so long
We were sure he had been killed.
But finally, he returned with food
And two baby birds poked their beaks out
Ravenous, growing, and yearning to fly
Which, eventually, they did, not to return.
The parents stayed a day,
Singing for their babes,
And finally flew away.
It was just the cycle of life, as common as sunlight,
as normal as the downward flow of water, but it took place in front of me every minute, and it became specific;
it became personal;
it became mine.