Mourning Doves
mate for life.
We have a pair
that returns to our courtyard
each Spring.
The thing is
they’re kind of stupid
fluttering clumsily about
for most of the season
falling off awnings
stutter-cooing as they try to hump
while their tiny eggs
splatter
on walkways.

I wonder
how they manage to stay alive
and like to think they fare better
in the wild.

But I can’t imagine
how.