Doves Nest

Ginny and Fred return to the gazebo. They prefer the confines of passion vines.

“Jack in the Beanstalk plant.” My son calls it.

Bells of flowers cling up under the hat of the structure. A loose nest of sweet peas and weeds hides their offspring. Mourning doves are dutiful parents. They take turns waiting.

Fred goes missing a week. She continues the duties. The eggs hatch any day. Still she calls to him, praying a cat didn’t nab him or my neighbors didn’t shoot him.

Raising children alone is rare for mourning doves. Piles of millet and safflower seeds sprinkled on the feeding platform near the nest. It’s a make shift feeder. Predators can’t easily enter. Ginny’s slender body hops down for a drink of water and snack. Back to the nest, feed the infants pigeon milk.

Spring turns to summer. Children begin to fly. The nest falls to the ground.  Ginny calls. We fill the feeder. Ginny and I wait.

Caroline Gerardo
"Dove's Nest"
2015 Poem copyrights reserved

Photographs of the passion vine in the gazebo
A mating pair have returned year after year.
Look what Google did with my images they made one
photograph of my several. The google gods are genuis

see:

Spring Comes

 Spring comes.
Forsythia buried under five feet of snow
but Whole Foods sells peonies I know
Sleep on linens washed in lavender water




















Ordered galvanized beds?
Combed the seed catalogs?

Spring comes

ready or not

Renews all things.

Sprouts despite rust.

Builds nests from sweaters.


Spring comes!

Prepare your heart:

she'll send dandelions

up in shining glory

gold as fresh honey.


Spring delivers

amazing opportunities for you-

opposite of giving up for Lent,

fingers will create

and hearts share joy.


C G
2/19/2015

I'm thinking about gardening.

In California there are no mounds of snow that
crocus seem to melt away. Spring starts
with flycatchers coming back to the creek,
with mourning doves nesting again in my
gazebo and the return of monarch butterflies
to milkweed on the hillside.
I pray for your heart to warm up, may all
your worries be put under your pillow like
those tiny dolls that can eat up the stress.
I keep you in my prayers and heart
for health and what you need.

If anyone wants seeds - email me
I'll mail them snail mail just don't tell
Monsanto. Not that GMO's read poetry.