THE MOURNING DOVE'S COUP
If you hear me in the morning and think: "There's the Morning Dove!"
You've erred: that's not
the spelling of my name,
Instead my call is mournful, since I mourn from dawn to dusk
This world's disgrace, heartache,
despair and shame.
But that's my coup! my "brilliantly accomplished stratagem":
That out of this dark world
a song can start,
My mourning coo can soften all the edges of despair,
And turn the night to morning
in your heart.
A Mourning Dove I be, small, grayish-brown with spotted tail,
A tiny dash of pink beneath
my chin,
And though I mourn, I coo a song of courage through the pain,
To bravely never-mind what
might have been.
Good God, beneath the Mystery of sorrow and despair
We also hear a clear creative
call,
So doves accept the role of making music out of pain,
Yet adding tones of hope
beneath it all.
from the forthcoming book Prayers of 100 Animals A to Z, by William Cleary
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