The Doves Have Returned

The Doves Have Returned

(“Bring balm for her wounds, in case she can be healed.” Jeremiah 51:8b)

Perhaps our distractions can soothe us,
a butterfly interrupting our train of thought.
The doves have returned to their favorite tree which stands
still naked until the spring clothes it in green.
We nailed houses to our eaves in December in hopes
they would take up residence there.
For now they pierce the sod, soft from the snow that
is melting. Surrounded by robins they share the square of land,
a mound of weeds and grass and mud where the worms
have dug a home.

Perhaps we could watch it together, no bother if they
finish their meal, there will still be more silence to share.
I know I am clubbed overnight by misshapen dreams and giants
of my past, threatening to break bonds that I thought
would cover me until winter had passed. I don’t do much
these days. I used to talk to pay for life. I don’t do much
speaking these days. And, in my dreams, I am nearly silenced
as well.

Here the snow is an attraction. I know for you it is a chore.
Still, I would rather be soaking in crystal waters with the
sun healing all my backward thinking; healing all our
shivering and hidden tears.

It seems to me, in miniature lucid moments,
that there is warmth within. And yet my skin still
yearns for sun to cloak my body and drink summer’s
full spectrum of light.

Could two friends in silence reheat the day? Would we
send the frost away? Could we slay those giants that grabbed us
like puppets and slung us, forgotten toys, behind the furniture?
Could two friends restore, even sadly, the smiles that
first graced our faces as children?

I used to speak of life. A hand, a wink, or a graceful look
would suffice these days.