The Dove

by Jennifer Miller

I saw a dove today

struggling to fly 

in the wind.

A tan, beautiful, small dove

with accents of black, tan, dark brown and white.

She came to perch 

on the sprasley leaved tree

outside my patio

to shelter 

from the gusts of wind.

And there she rested

for a spell

until the gale had passed.

When I looked again

she had flown off.

Is it so wrong 

to perch on a branch?

In shelter from the gusts of wind in this life?

Until it is past and you can fly off again?

To find safety when you are struggling

to fly 

due to the uncontrollable forces

of nature?

Is it so wrong?