And so sits the dove in the ivy-clad tree,
watching as one season gives way to another.
Watching as the skeletal brown
turns to green, and the treetops
are now alive with birdsong.
Thrushes, finches, tits and robins
conjure up a chorus
of incessant cheer.
In the pond below the dove's perch
sits a chamber orchestra of frogs
all croaking in harmonic baritones
complimenting the treetop choir
heralding in the long days
and the longer sunsets.
And so sits the dove in the ivy-clad tree
singing as spring returns to the forest.
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