Carnage on my deck;
Feathers flew in my absence,
Leaving me dove-less.
I searched for strategies, now
Reflectors hang from my trees.
skat@2020
Carnage on my deck;
Feathers flew in my absence,
Leaving me dove-less.
I searched for strategies, now
Reflectors hang from my trees.
skat@2020
In wintry twilight
Twenty-seven mourning doves
Comfortably roost
skat@2019
doves, lovey-doving
instead of shovey-doving
much bill-coo, bill-coo
skat©2019
I raise my eyes as
dove-duo triples in size–
no surprise: fresh food!
skat@2019
353375
Seven doves
arrive each morning
at seven.
In the snow
on fence-tops, their plump bodies
cleave indentations.
Skat@2017