Seemly that life in this little town is adorned by 

the persistent coo of a mourning dove.    

My task has been to pass all grief along.  The bird sings it better. 

And, to paint the living room walls white--

cover the dusty rose that matches the breast of the bereaved bird--

and to take lessons from her in the act of balancing on a peaked roof,

gathering twigs from the eaves, 

building a nest that stands still in the wind.    

"Songs of praise, songs of love, songs of sorrow." 

Nikon FE2, 50mm