Collared Doves, wherever I go
their haunting call follows me,
from the savannahs of Africa
to England’s green and pleasant fields,
and now to the States, in my case
a cold north eastern shore.
Echo of childhood, the sound
inhabits my soul, stirring memories
of hot, dry days in the sunburnt veld,
that kuk-kooooo-kuk invades my being.
Symbol of peace, so soft-feathered
and your pastel colours announcing
your harmless, gentle nature,
only the dark signature at your nape
hinting at your secret strength,
key to your ubiquitous presence.
Old friends stay with you forever,
ever young, immortal in the memory,
and the song of the dove never dies,
threading through the weave of your hist’ry.
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