The urban birds of my neighborhood seem to raise their families year round. I shouldn't have been surprised to see such a young mourning dove outside the window yesterday afternoon, under the watchful eyes of an adult.
I stopped reading the book in my hands and flipped the pages back to a most appropriate line of writing.
" . . . one listens to the mourning dove terracing its sweet calls . . ."
From " On Beauty and Being Just " by Elaine Scarry