Two Mourning Doves

Two mourning doves,

sitting on the birdbath,

last evening,

as the sun leaked

its last rays

through the trees,

so still, 

tails trailing into

the cool water,

flying off,

as darkness landed,

as I pulled a hooded sweatshirt,

over my head,

and wool socks

onto my feet,

as I shut all the windows,

getting ready to sleep beneath,

a quilt,

and next to three dogs,

an autumn night,

descending.

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