Aubade
       

Because mourning doves believe
                        aubades are about them,
                                                opening their beaks to blend
                                        sorrow with a hazy joy

as when the dawn
                        grows audible,
                                                rain tapering off
                                                              through the dripping trees,

you and I are listening in bed,
                        neither fated to
                                                have lost the other yet.
                                        Albada in Spanish,

a song of greeting
                        or of parting at daybreak,
                                                propagation of light
                                                                        across our floor.

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Copyright © 2022 Jennifer Barber All rights reserved
from The Sliding Boat Our Bodies Made
The Word Works
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission