two doves

a loving good heart is riches enough, and without it intellect is poverty.
– Mark Twain

two doves fell silently from the cover of clouds tonight,
intertwined in each other’s soft wings,
and landed on concrete like cushioned hail.

i watched as the white feathers reddened with avian blood,

and quickly moved on
for the clouds were darkening ominously
as if threatening to deliver more birds.

a wind was picking up, throwing sand into my eyes and dust around my
aching feet,

and the sky launched morose teardrops to the thirsty earthen pastures.

i went home to you, unsure whether my sadness was a reaction to the fallen fledglings
or whether it was coming from within.

your eyes were empty of their familiar flames,
and mine brimmed with salt

as i approached you for one last embrace
before we too would drop out of our heaven
and quietly plummet to the vast depths below.