Fleeting Laziness in Birds and Catching Myself Being Selfish by Nonnie Augustine

My brother built a planter for roses
in the garden on the side of our house.
A dove couple came and thought things over.
There in the corner they whispered.

Could they dutifully take their turns,
(as doves do) she from three to ten, he from ten to three,
until they hatched the usual two?
They wondered if my brother had done all
this work just for them and their young?
They were tempted, I knew.

But, no. He raised objections.
She made several good points.
Building in this easy, shady,
new-wood-smelling spot would not
be a sound dove decision.
Neighborhood cats were known to jump
right off the roof into the garden.
There's Blossom, the dog, who can get
overexcited and occasionally loud.
Sam, the cat, is meant to stay
inside his screened-in porch,
but could they really count on that
always being the case?
Their cool gray heads prevailed.

The house-hunting birds flew off and after they'd left,
I found a mound of red mulch, dove-sized, dented and soft.
They were right to take flight. I know that, of course.

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