A Collared Dove on Lanzarote

 

She is waiting on my wall

illuminated by the morning sun.

QUESTIONING.

 

I coo and make a mewing sound.

She tips her head my way to listen.

FEELING SAFER,

but unsure if flying is a better option.

 

In your mushroom coloured feathered coat

trimmed with an ermine and ebony collar,

are you the height of fashion?

 

YOU WAIT,

with autistic awareness – afraid of change.

Twitching, jumpy – a survivor’s constant state.

 

You weigh up my next move.

Will I leap and devour you

or simply fill your dish?

 

Experience has taught you to be hopeful,

BUT WATCHFUL.

 

Your courage is rewarded and

YOU EAT.

 

You don’t stay long.

A survivor is never sated.

That is A DANGEROUS STATE.

 

As I watch, I wonder

where go after your daily re-fill.

 

Do you cross the ocean to Moroccan shores

or gather in dead volcano cones, pecking for the seeds

of parched plants clinging to volcanic ash

as black as your beautiful eyes?

 

Maybe you don’t go so far and

partake of the rich pickings around the

TOURIST TRAPS.

 

Your sojourns are a mystery,

but in your quest for sustenance,

you learn your unfathomable skill

of finding SHELTER AND FOOD.

 

You’ve become one of millions . . . maybe more.

 

But that doesn’t make you any less

BEAUTIFUL.