The White-Winged Sonoran Spring
By Nathan Cowlishaw
In the desert sun, where the cacti grow,
And the winds of change, forever blow,
The White-WingedDoves, they come to know,
The secrets of nature, that ebb and flow.
Their wings a blur, as they take flight,
A symphony of grace, in the morning light,
Their destination clear, and in sight,
To pollinate the saguaros, with all their might.
They land on the spines, with a gentle touch,
Their feathers ablaze, with the desert’s hush,
And as they work, it’s almost too much,
The beauty of nature, a sacred crutch.
Their beaks dip in, to the nectar’s hold,
A moment of bliss, in the desert’s gold,
And as they feed, their love unfolds,
A dance of life, that never grows old.
The chicks will come, in due time,
Their parents’ care, a rhythm divine,
And as they grow, they’ll learn to climb,
The cacti’s heights, a scene so sublime.
The White-Winged Doves, they’ll stay a while,
And in their stay, the desert’s smile,
For they bring life, with every mile,
A gift from above, that’s worth the while.
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