I see four mourning doves every day

Serene and mild-mannered

As they pigeonwalk here and there.

Each dove is a bubble of gray, plump body

And tiny head bobbing.

They placidly graze under the feeder outside the kitchen window

Oblivious to the sparrows and cardinals that swoop overhead and

Knock birdseed onto the ground in their feeding fury.

The doves peck and peck

In their slow meandering way

Following the trails of seed.