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.