Annoncer le Printemps

Like the winged tips

of nuns' habits

snowy white

I know

that the touch of tomorrow

soars in flight

its herald

~~ outside of our balcony

In grey waves of rain

pelting crest of sun

our salmon-breasted, still-eyed

avian-angel remains steadfastly a great

feathery puff of warmth for her little one ("Hope")

who slumbers in a cozy room of delicate shell

~~They wait to meet each other

as we watch over "Lovey"

nestled in the crook of the sable palm tree

With quiet, blinking eyes, Mama regards us warily

and seems not to mind my odd-turned greeting: "Llroo Llroo"

as I, a human cuckoo, am wont to do;

she sleeps, waits, shifts position, protects her egg

as only a mother dove can...preserves the future as only

Mother Nature can

My dreams close their eyes for the last time

as dayfire is smothered by night's cape

but Hope will hatch during spring's delivery...

Lovey tucks her head under her bluegray wing to nap

and is nuzzled by the mango-hued nimbus

of sun's rising