Tish Davis

For Life

O Mourning Dove
searching for your mate,
your watchful eye
on the muted hues
my soft broom neatly gathers

This sibilant song, dear dove, is for the feathers of a fallen hawk. Surely that wind gust saved your mate after pushing her predator into his reflection. 

earth to earth
a hymn off-key. . .
thrusting
my shovel
in spring ground

for life 
in a distant tree
a hawk 
waiting for a crow
to stop eating

everywhere
dust to dust. . .
how
does God
decide?

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About the Author

Tish Davis lives in Northern Ohio. Her tanka and related forms have appeared in numerous online and print publications. When she isn’t busy with work and grandchildren she enjoys exploring the local parks with her husband and three dogs.