Our gray cat offered us a plump dove on Saturday.
At nightfall the bird’s pair was still calling. The beckoning became more urgent as darkness started to become evidence of the other’s indelible absence.
On Sunday morning, a pair of doves returned with the morning, huddling on the wire above the backyard. A third arrived to learn how to watch the day alone.
Who will forage for seeds by his side?
shewhodaresnothing 