Posts Tagged ‘Mourning Doves’
Mourning dove
I woke this morning to another new bird in the mix of the morning bird chorus — a Mourning dove. In this area, the Mourning dove is a common bird, seen pecking at seeds beneath feeders or hanging out on the telephone lines. But I haven’t heard one in our grey woods for a while.
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The call of the Mourning dove gives it its name. It begins with a low question and continues in a descending series of coos.
Oh no, no, no, no, no
Dear me, me, me, me, me, me
I decided to try and capture this sound in words.
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Mourning
Melancholy
Monotonous
Sad
Solemn
Hollow, mellow
A reed, the inside walls of a bottle
An emerald bottle, buried to its neck in the sand
Breath across the mouth of a bottle
A child’s feeble attempt at a whistle
Light and shadow inside a vessel of glass
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If the call of a mourning dove were a colour it would be amethyst
If the call of a mourning dove were a sound it would be wind blowing down the stairway of a tower
If the call of a mourning dove were a taste it would be chowder, thick and left too long on the fire
If the call of a mourning dove were a touch it would be a wooden shawl, wrapped round and round until it was no longer warm but strangling
If the call of a mourning dove were a song it would be hesitant, riff-driven, repeated over and over
If the call of a mourning dove were a smell it would be the cloying perfume of lilac
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If it was a vowel, it would be ‘o’ or ‘u’ and sometimes ‘y’
If it was a consonant, it would be ‘m’, ‘n’, ‘r’, or ‘w’
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Heavy or light
Loud or soft
Tall or short
Sad or happy
Bright or dull
Sharp or dull
Nearby or distant
Solemn or joyous
Spacious or confined
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So, from all this, a poem. This is the second draft of a poem about the mourning dove which never mentions the bird except in the title.
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Mourning dove
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Zenaida macroura
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wind wakens, descends the stair
notices shadow, gaps in cladding
the hollow of the tower, breath
across the mouth of a bottle
amethyst, buried in sand
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the reed widened, a solemn song
the riff, the echo, a distant train
expands across the valley
and a child hollows her hand
shapes her lips for a kiss
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tries to whistle, her breath
a sigh, a puff to cool
the chowder, still simmers
on the fire, thick
and needing stirring
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potatoes, corn and onions
curdled cream, a woollen shawl wrapped
round and round, warmth tightened
to struggle, viscous as lilac
unable to breathe
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For other posts and poems about the Mourning dove, see https://janetims.com/2012/01/16/keeping-warm/ and https://janetims.com/2015/01/30/for-the-birds/
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Copyright 2016 Jane Tims
words from the woodland – bird song
I have a lot of projects underway, mostly on the ‘administrative’ side of writing. I have been ordering and revising a manuscript of poems on abandoned aspects of our landscape ( see https://nichepoetryandprose.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/first-and-last-and-in-between/ ). Now, I have reached the point where I really need to set the manuscript aside so I can approach it with a fresh eye in a couple of weeks. So I will use the days between to order another manuscript of poems about sounds from the woodland. The poems mostly use animal and bird sounds and songs as metaphors for human communication.
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Some of these poems have been around a while, packaged in another form. In the last weeks, I have been thinking about the bird song metaphor and now I am ready to consider the poems in relation to one-another. Perhaps I am responding to the Black-capped Chickadees, chattering in the Tamarack. Or the Hairy Woodpecker who comes every few days to beat his head against our telephone pole. Perhaps I am thinking more than usual about human communication (having just learned to ‘Twitter’).
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January 8, 2012 ‘two Mourning Doves’ Jane Tims
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drawing doves
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‘… cease to mourn …’
Virgil, Eclogue I
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grey sighs beneath graphite
or where eraser softens
troubled feathers
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doves lament, disturb
fine detail, mourn
the fingers’ tremble
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pencil strokes beak
and fingernails, kernels
of corn, husks of sunflower
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
keeping warm
After some variable weather over the last weeks, the cold has arrived.
The birds at the feeder are plumped and fluffy, and look twice their usual size. The cat curls up a little more tightly than usual, puts her paws over her face, and finishes off with her tail coiled across the paws.
Inside we use our electric fireplace more often and cover up with some of the little lap quilts I’ve made. But outside is a different matter and another strategy is required.
I’m determined to stay warm this year, so I make the following pledge:
🙂 I will wear mittens and a scarf … you would think I would be past the ‘scarves-and-mittens-are-not-cool’ stage.
🙂 I will have a warm drink before I leave the house … my new discovery is real ginger root chopped into fine pieces and steeped for tea.
🙂 I will take a chair seat from the house to warm the seat of the car … I used to make fun of my Mom for doing this.
🙂 I will warm up the car before I leave … this is in the face of my usual ‘no-idling’ policy.
And so I would like to know, on these cold days, how do you keep your niche warm????
stay warm
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two mittened mourning doves
sit on the ledge in sun, exaggerate
their approach to keeping warm
fluff the pillows, bar the doors, make a nest by the fire
spaces between feathers fill with air and fibre, energy from
sunflower seeds, cracked corn and cider
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© Jane Tims 2012
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