Mourning Doves Dozing
I have netted
the blue-lidded doves
that flew
and will fly again
from the green-lattice
limbs
of the cypress.
We do well to contain
them a minute
so solemn are they
and prayerful.
When I say netted,
I mean arrested
by eye and
by sheer eye
guided inward
toward languor
whereas, otherwise,
they would nod there,
soft warm feet
redding the bough
and leave
beyond notice.
Lisa Graley teaches English and humanities classes at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, devoting special attention to courses on Plagues and Poxes, Medicine and Disease, and Scriptures as Literature. She has published one volume of poetry (Box of Blue Horses, Gival, 2013) and one volume of stories (The Current that Carries, Univ. of Georgia Press, 2016).
