Little dove within my grasp,
I feel your heart a’ beating,
Thrums against my fingertips –
Quickening, quickening.

Color of a winter sky,
Feather of the softest down,
I stroke you gently –
Calming, calming.

Eyes as big as marbles,
Shine so slick and sable,
Widen, bright and curious at me –
Blinking, blinking.

I cannot know your name,
Or from whence you’ve come,
But in my hands you coo –
Softly, softly.

Sing sweetly to me little dove,
For in your song I hear a word,
A secret between you and me –
Beckoning, beckoning.