Turtledove wisdom

I set aside the dystopian novel I’m reading

and gaze through the window glass

for external sustenance.

An immigrant turtledove, all fluid twitching

and watchful arrogance, lands

and stands central and as still as the paving.

Then preliminary scouting,

to ensure the dog is fly-wire encaged.

Assured, she feigns aimless feeding on morsels,

slouching, crab-like, towards the Holy Grail

(the dog’s water bowl,

warmly wasting in the summer shade).

Looking askance, she is astride the rim

in a movement denying intention

and dips deep into the yellow reservoir.

Her fill taken,

a hop, step and airborne skip

and she is gone.

I look up to see myself reflected in the glass,

an educated man.

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