Dove Cries

Their call was familiar
before their appearance

Feathers smoothed to seamlessness
multiple shades of tan, beige, brown

Not biblical symbolic white, yet
still peaceful

Too large for the perch so they sat in the seeds
until Dad bought a mix that repelled them

Now they peck in the grass of their banishment
mourning

Sound I know from summers
sisters and I sleeping in the same room

Waking to unaccustomed plaintive notes
visiting his farm back when Granpa lived

LA Felleman is a financial analyst in Iowa City and is improving her poetry-writing skills thanks to the Free Generative Writing workshop. She organizes a writers open mic at the public library (or via Zoom during pandemics) and serves on the advisory council of Iowa City Poetry. She is the author of The Length of a Clenched Fist from Finishing Line Press.