I think it's the coo-ing that thy do, that simple song of a majestic dove, the magical gentleness that calls my curiosity. I've watched them for literally hours, how they share the household duties of nest building and egg sitting, and take turns foraging while the other stays home.
One speaks and the other listens. They mate for life.
Sometimes it seems that my imagination takes wings with them as they soar to that nest in the pines. They own twigs and grass and each other and not a single other thing. I imagine this in my clay pieces, where doves are gathering, more every day! My clay doves are informed by my winged beauties, and by Leonard Cohen's music where pathos is a prayer and comfort runs deep.
