563. Mournful singer of dawn and dusk I hear well your song. ~Author Unknown

And now November rains erode the nests
That mourning doves assembled in the gardens
From where their mild and wind-warm coos caressed
My ear, to quiet earth that cools and hardens
~Edward Alan Bartholomew

Screen shot 2014-11-29 at 2.21.36 PM

As I worked in the yard today, a mourning dove somewhere above my head sang her sad, sad tune in the dwindling hours of the late November day. Although I could hear her long before I could see her, eventually I spied her and her soft, pinkish underbelly on the high wire where she sat in an intermittent reverie between her sorrowful cries. Perplexed by her pleas I sat pondering the meaning of the doleful melodies. Why does she cry I wondered? Does she lament the closing of the day and the dark, moonless night that lies ahead? Have her children come and gone too soon? Where is her lover that he might console her? Is she hungry? Is she frightened? Surely she doesn’t lament the regrettable affairs of men. Then I noticed that the stone rabbit with the upright ears seemed to be pondering her despair as well. Again I mulled over what the cause of her woe might be. The weather and the garden, though not perfect this time of year, should be no cause for such sorrowful sounds. Other birds had for sure been chattering gleefully which made her cries and lamentations even more pitiful. Cooah, coo, coo, coo she’d called over and over again as the day wound down, and then suddenly just before all light was gone her melancholy voice vanished. And then it occurred to me that perhaps her haunting, soulful sounds were simply songs of praise for another day of living and it was time to rest her weary wings.

I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.” ~Psalm 55:6   ✝

** Image via Pinterest

24 thoughts on “563. Mournful singer of dawn and dusk I hear well your song. ~Author Unknown

    • I love to sit and listen to them too, Theresa. And I always look to see if I can find them wherever they are. One of the saddest things I ever saw was a dead one lying on the ground. I’m glad you enjoyed my description. Hugs, N ❤

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  1. Yes a good way of looking at it–the mourning of a dove is but its way of singing praise—just a bit more melodious to be sure—I love the doves—they enjoy waddling about under the bird feeder–
    A beautiful observation Natalie—thank you—Julie

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    • Oh I adore my doves. One day, a plumber was in my house and when looked out my big patio window, he exclaimed, “Look at all those doves!” I got the feeling that he was a hunter and I wanted to tell him that there was NO way he was going to kill a single one of them. Hugs, N 🙂

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      • Oh I know, I always think the doves know that they are safe here—each September when the season opens and as we live out in an area where there are fields that people do hunt in, my little “flock” seems to increase 🙂

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  2. I would love to know where you ran across “Mournful singer of dawn and dusk, I hear well your song…” even if you don’t know the author. Please help!!

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    • Oh Martha, I wish I could help but I can’t remember where I found it. I’ve looked at some of the sites I frequent for quotes but haven’t run across it yet. If I should I’ll let you know. Blessings, Natalie 🙂

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  3. The dove certainly is a beautiful bird, and I’ve always described its song as haunting, so I guess I find it a little sorrowful also. And yet, I take great comfort in hearing it. It was a lovely post Natalie, and a beautiful picture. Thinking of you and sending prayers your way (if I may borrow a phrase) “on the wings of a dove”. 🙂

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