Mourning Doves

Cloudy day, the lightest possible rain falling. Two mourning doves are exploring the ground outside my window. A squirrel runs down the oak tree - just as if they were in nature. Maybe they don't care that the ground is paved?

Mourning doves are brown, and generally travel in pairs. When sitting on the branch of a tree, or a telephone wire, they sit "back to back," each with its head pointing a different way, so they can keep watch everywhere. The "mourning" sound that they make is sad and beautiful.

Doves and pigeons are closely related, but in the city pigeons are considered to be a disgusting nuisance. Doves, as far as I know, have managed to hang on to their sweet reputation. I have not learned to hate pigeons, either.

There's the thought for the day.

New Orleans 2005

I went there once
It's a city of ghosts
It's always been a city underwater

Now, the spectacle of gross incompetence
and utter lack of compassion
The haves and the have-nots
one set in the White House
the other underwater

Oya, goddess of the hurricane
sweeping through
Transformation
is what's needed now
Bring that wind here
that water
to wash away
Bring transformation now

Oya dances in the cemetery

Oya dances in the cemetery

Oya dances in the cemetery

Change of Season

the summer sky descends
it rests for a while inside the morning glories
and then moves on