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  • Lorna Ilena Bussue

The Doves Language

The coos are the language of the doves

At the break of dawn

Their insistence wavers

Telling the world

In volumes loud

That reach to the hills

That life is just a bustle


At midday

They coo

Then pause to idle their time in the shade

Fluttering amongst the boughs

Enjoying the heat of day

Yes, the doves do play

As the noon chases the morn away


Now the sun, a glowing sphere

Cast golden beams between the branches

As they fluff their breasts

To settle between the leaves

Calling coos in half the beat

As lazily the eye lids droop


It's midnight

And that mournful sound

Crept softly into my sleep

In drowsy monotony

That imbued peace and harmony


As they coo out their stanza

I am comforted

By the throaty murmur

Which punctuates the silence

I then turned and hug myself

As I happily resume my sleep

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