Mama dove paces the fence-top above her injured baby
It tries to fly with wounded wing, feathers not in sync
She waits, waits through afternoon and into nightfall
As patiently as love itself — life fluttering on the brink
—Terri Guillemets
Mama dove paces the fence-top above her injured baby
It tries to fly with wounded wing, feathers not in sync
She waits, waits through afternoon and into nightfall
As patiently as love itself — life fluttering on the brink
—Terri Guillemets