The dove’s nest, eave-tucked, all messiness Front door watcher, quiet eye, messiness We pick up treefall, the winds of march were brutal Stoop, bend, pile for fires we burn away messiness And still the dovemilk feeds a fragile brood, and parents Trade off day and night, a system free of messiness We hope the cats will stay away, raider thief raccoon That dovelets grow to live their own brief lives of messiness Elizabeth, you worry, stand on tippy toes, sweep up ground Ever watchful, order-bound, it’s only ever messiness.
Early Morning Poems 