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Dove Eggs

All summer they lay

abandoned in their house of twigs

as hopeful days winked on and off

and winter’s icy clock wound on to spring

two alabaster dove eggs like art deco ornaments

their unclaimed futures in the pawn shop

of our window sill


And then one day the following April

as down in the garden

pink and pastel faces opened

smiling at the blackbirds’ songs

a pair of blue-gray parents settled down

upon the eggs, cooing instinctual expectations of tomorrow

perhaps retirement later to a Santa Barbara apartment

visited by grandchildren on holidays


And suddenly we noticed there were now four

pearly white inhabitants of the nest

and as we watched mother and father come and go

take turns to sit on one dream following another

we wondered how the coming weeks and months

would treat this family’s best intentions

chicks now proudly flapping wings

who’ll soon go off to college

study, graduate in medicine or law

marry, go to church on Sundays


Or lie there cold and unborn – unexplainably

as fortune throws another pair of dice

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© Johnmichael Simon



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