I wrote this sonnet to it.
THE WHITE DOVE
Sweet white dove, perched giddily on scented shrub
Ringed but lost, peeking in panes for company
Wooing love and nurture, unphased by fear.
Rejected, my heart sang on your return
Rapping on my pane, seeking hail the same
Like errant son who learns what he has spurned -
Till instinct made you test your wings again!
White dove, sweet bird, now ever lost to flight
Village homes welcomed you and tried to trace
Owners afar, pitiless, knowing your plight:
That, instinct fled , never more you could find base.
White dove, rare visitation
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