Morning dove

She’s awake in the morning
Long before I ever stir
She’s hungry for the oil and the water
And the flour gets rolled for the bread
She has ears for the birdsong
That decorates the darkest blue
Her voice is in her hands and the whispering
Is her song in the hours before the sun is due

She moves out through the morning
While the stars still wander
Over streets, over houses, she pulls a blanket
And the dew of her feet is a-washing

She looks into our faces
With the love that she’s received
And bestows it on us like a white carnation
And the well of her heart is a clear spring
She sees God in the sunrise
That paints the roofs of everything
She runs with the wind of the morning
She taps on my window and I’m awake