Dove
An exclusive, monthly poem offering written by me.
Dove
by Luciana Francis
It is no surprise:
Dove flies,
Startled
By an approaching human.
Light, smooth as a pebble
Minus the few feathers discarded in fright —
‘Your warring’,
‘Your warring’,
She would sigh if she could.
But who, who could blame
The creature that will not take our side,
Nor wait.
(January 14th 2026.)
Luciana Francis
Go out where the world waiteth for thee like a garden. Go out unto the roses, the bees, and the flocks of doves! Especially, however, unto the singing-birds, to learn singing from them! - Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra