A Piebald Rock Dove Seen from My Window in Winter
Alone among a flock of doves, all
black,
this one, mottled, hobbles through
snow spotted
the same as he, a model for his
back.
I mark how dark ground divides the
plot
Into contrasts of dichromatic
curves
of disillusioned earth and remnant
sky
that mundane warming gradually
returns
from heavy land beneath to weightless
light.
This tenuous mix has set this dove
apart,
he is not so easily classed as all
the rest,
he is a puzzle of pieces, light
and dark
Incongruously entwined across his
breast.
But when his wings turn cruciform
in flight
ascending feathers below flash purest white.
No comments:
Post a Comment