Dressed in saintly albino-white feathers,
The Dove curls in flight down to amber-waved shores
For his first visitation.
The pigeons embrace him as one of their own,
For he is not one of their bumptious brood,
Given to rancorous squawkings and feuds.
How refreshing! A bird that strolls without strut,
That's surrounded by jays and jacksnipe preeners,
That casts a bright light on these avians
The Dove's Circuit
The Dove curls in flight down to amber-waved shores
For his first visitation.
The pigeons embrace him as one of their own,
For he is not one of their bumptious brood,
Given to rancorous squawkings and feuds.
How refreshing! A bird that strolls without strut,
That's surrounded by jays and jacksnipe preeners,
That casts a bright light on these avians
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