Poem: The Doves of Sobriety
The doves of sobriety chide
Shaking and cooing in fear
As the hawk in the bright sky glides
Nearer, nearer and near —
He gyres his way in the sun
He tosses his shadow beneath
But his prey only coo and thrum
Hiding in branch and leaf.
‘He is coming, we cannot evade!’
Says Fear, passing bird unto bird
‘He is swift and shaped as a blade
To plunder and sunder in blood.
We are doomed, we are doomed,’ they call
But still they do not fly away.
And this is the fate of us all.
And that is the most we can say.