The White Dove
love has asked me to kneel by the window of an unflighted sky
The White Dove
When I first wrote to you it was as if each letter I held in my palms was like a small white dove I had to lift toward the sky and let go and that once it had arrived calling quietly at the edge of your high window you only had to write your own words and fold them small and tie them to each leg and lift the white bird …
