Turtle Doves; those alluring, tender-voiced birds…
Together, paired always;
Upon the peak of my roof and the curvatures of my heart.
The coddling nature of a flitting “coo” announces their nourishing presence,
A divine serenade that we listen to with reverence.

They are crafted from the essence of lovers,
Encased in grey, and bound by whispering down feathers.
Caramel, chestnut;
Their gaze is pigmented by the logs we burn on autumnal evenings,
Hands clasped beneath a burgundy quilt.
Their heart is the metronome that counts each measure of a clumsy ballad,
Slowly, precisely… Our confessions of love power their bodies.

Of all avian majesties,
Turtle doves rely most heavily on our pairings, partnerships,
And the pecks we plant on fazed cheeks;
When love bursts through our eyes,
It is bundled into precious ivory vessels by the romantic fingers of the wind.
Born from crisp shells,
These blessed doves clasp onto life,
Lives so heartbreakingly fleeting,
Only preserved by the love that created them…

Passion, adoration;
It may fade with time and violence.
The turtle dove lovers are held together by heartstrings,
And as they snap,
So, too, do the turtle dove lovers.

They crave kisses,
They feed on them;
Fuel their wings, their preening beaks.
Build your heart, and you will build theirs;
Turtle doves will thrive and mourn with your soul’s fractured tune… 

Ribbons of grass, wheat, and dust…
Forge and weave your soft nest alongside these treasured birds,
These turtle dove lovers…