Melisma
for Nina Bagley
The doves in the empty fields
still mourn my father
though he was no saint
into whose palms
they might have come
gladly to roost
through the long afternoon
of a South Georgia
August, their voices
at last making harmony
out of the daily
descent of the sun,
its grace note shimmering
this side of silence.
August field's edge on my father's farm.
4 comments:
Such a beautiful write!
Motivational Poems
Thank you, Marinela.
The sound of mourning doves takes me back to my childhood.
A beautiful poem, Kay.
Gorgeous. And such a wonderful tribute. Doves have such a poignant, melancholy call. Wonderful to see you back at Magpie Tales, Kay.
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