Village boy Impressions

On my small porch, a dove has made her quiet claim– two pale promises resting in the shallow grammar of fragile twigs. The door had been closed for months before me. No footsteps, no sudden sounds. No reason for fear. She had found what we all look for– a place undisturbed long enough to believe in tomorrow. Now I arrive with sudden sounds and movement and ownership, opening doors like declarations–thoughtless. She startles at my clatter, rises like a thought interrupted, her heart a fluttering question I cannot answer. What does she say of me, I wonder, in the courts where all creatures are heard? Does she call me intruder? Does she name me destroyer? Does she plead, Keep my children from this man who comes with noise and presence? And I– I who mean no harm, I, who have only inherited this roof for a while– stand here, a giant in her fragile world, yet a stranger to her fear. I want to answer her, If I could. Stay, I would say. I have no quar...