It is another
cool, August morning.
I do not say that
lightly,
without savoring
the very notion.
Let us not take for granted
that we are having
cool
August
mornings.
66 degrees at 7 a.m.
on August 29.
And while the hummingbirds
remain,
vying for their sips
at the feeders,
a glint of shining green
as the sun catches their feathers,
I’m beginning to see evidence
of season change
in other bird activity.
Many of the Barn Swallow families
have left,
though a few remain,
dipping and diving,
for which I’m grateful,
since we have another generation
of mosquitoes.
This morning
it was the Mourning Doves
that captured my attention.
The Mourning Doves live here
year-around,
but seem quieter,
as if they’re somewhere else
in the hot weather.
This morning two were
calling
and flying fast,
through
tree branches,
one on the tail of the other,
calling,
speeding faster,
higher,
then through another tree,
matching each other’s every move.
For a moment,
I let my heart soar with them,
laughing out loud, delightedly.
It freed everything inside me.
I assumed I had joined a dove couple
on a joyful cool morning romp,
and then a third dove flew
in and sat on a branch
and seemed to watch.
That was when I realized
it wasn’t a dove couple
flying in marital syncopation,
but two doves
chasing one another.
I smiled.
Happy trick
my mind played;
my heart,
the benefactor.
Every season,
every in-between season,
I cherish the good company
of birds.