A slender shape, a gentle grace,
They claim the world as nesting place.
From ancient woods to city park,
They leave a quiet, lasting mark.
No icy pole can hold their flight,
They soar through morning into night.
Where forests fell, and cities grew,
They built their wild frontiers anew.
They glean the seeds from open ground,
Where hidden life and weeds abound.
A vital link in nature’s thread,
By whom the hawk and fox are fed.
With fast, direct, and soaring flight,
They turn the shadows into light.
Through all the shifting centuries past,
The dove’s soft song is bound to last.
