A gray dove on the edge
Of our birdbath
Light rain ringing ripples
In still water
I’d seen electroencephalograms do that,
Blink,
Make wave static from the radio mind
She chants a lowing coo upon the day
The rain seems not to chase her away
I made a pot of coffee
I put in a piece of toast
When I looked back the dove had flown
Still ripples winked upon her throne
These thoughts record time happening,
Between the notes the white dove sings
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