There are two mourning doves that live in the courtyard. My desk faces them, tucked up against the big windows. In the morning, they sing soft and low. I see their shadows flit across the walls, as they land on a collection of poles, beaks turned under wings as they whisper to each other. I work long hours, and they seem to keep me company, their song a slowly familiar sound - not unlike the kids playing in the street that drifts in from the other side of the apartment. If this stretch of our lives had a name, it might be doves and children.
💞💞💞I love this