The Dove Poem by Edwina Reizer

This morning as I awoke
I heard a mournful sound.
A dove had landed by my sill
Upon the still wet ground.

I listened carefully, caught up
In the repeating of the call.
And wondered at the meaning,
The meaning of it all.

Most birds will chirp or tweet
Or trill a sweet, sweet song.
And no one wonders if they’re sad
Or anything is wrong.

But, when you hear the mourning sound
You hope the dove’s not sad.
You hope the sound she’s making
Is one that makes her glad.