The air, it echoes, ringing sweet
sorrows sung, replete repeats
a breast is beaten, garbs of gray
and burdens born away, away
so close your eyes, enough! enough!
The Mourning Dove
Short and sweet and simple this week. Lots of repletion in it—the idea being that it mimics the mourning dove’s call in a way. It’s funny, but reading it somehow it doesn’t really feel like a ‘me’ thing to write, but a change of pace isn’t a bad thing. It feels a little old fashioned, or cutesy or something—I’m not sure.
I do think it is soothing in a nice way though.
‘sorrows sung, replete repeats’