As the rising sun peeks over
From the hills above,
We awaken to the cooing
Of the Mourning Doves.

Softly whispering
To the sleepy flowers,
While they open their petals
To the shining hours.

Our thoughts slide back
As with a chime,
Bringing memories we'd learned
Of Noah's time.

These wonderful birds
On wings of love,
Open our new days with peace:
The Mourning Doves.

 © 2002 Clayton S.