Our home has a stairway with a special window. It gives me peeks, of the life outside our walls, each time I walk past. This morning, I walked by my window to hear an eerie song. I stopped for a moment to see her silhouetted against the dense morning fog. Her song was very yet sweet, yet sorrowful. I linger for a moment longer to snap a picture.
Someone pointed out that they are Mourning Doves not Morning Doves. It was interesting to read this about them. A graceful, slender-tailed, small-headed dove that’s common across the continent. Mourning Doves perch on telephone wires and forage for seeds on the ground; their flight is fast and bullet straight. Their soft, drawn-out calls sound like laments. When taking off, their wings make a sharp whistling or whinnying. Mourning Doves are the most frequently hunted species in North America.
Fascinated to learn that they are Mourning not Morning coupled with the sweet, sad song, I wrote a haiku.
She sings her lament
But, joy comes in the morning
Sweet morning dove’s song.