Sunday, 4 April 2010
A pair of collared doves are nesting in the pine again;
one of the giants, a Scottish one of three,
planted ages past in someone’s sweet sad memory.
In only days gone past I have watched these birds
courting and cavorting at the river’s edge
but it is Nature’s mating dance and I can only peek.
I lay hidden now, a secret within my own nest,
peering outward through the tiny cottage window.
I see them later, landing on the branches,
creeping stealthily amongst the fronds of green,
seemingly safe and protected, (I hope all will be well).
They know not that I am there each morning
like a spy, watching, waiting for what might be new life signs.
And I wonder on this Easter Day
as I lie low - what looks in on me?
And I pray for resurrection for this world.