"Quickly!  Quickly!  Little ones!"
Called the Mama dove,
"A storm is brewing, children!
See the dark skies up above!"

 

From her nest high in the tree,
She saw her babies circling below,
Gaily sailing with the currents,
Smartly gliding to and fro.

 

How beautiful her children,
And how proud the Mama dove,
Her gentle heart beat rapidly,
So filled with mother love.

Again she called her darlings,
The storm clouds moving fast,
A cold wind was rising, too,
And blew in icy blasts.

 

The baby doves flew up at once,
To the nest, secure and warm,
And snuggled 'neath the mother's wings,
Well protected from the storm.

 

It was the most horrific tempest
To ever strike the place,
Its fury lashed out everywhere,
No space at all was safe.

It ripped the nest beneath the doves,
And they were thrown asunder,
They tried to fly in the wild sky,
But how pathetically they floundered

 

It seemed the storm raged on forever,
The doves afraid and in distress,
But then at last the tempest passed,
And the sky grew clear and fresh.

 

The nest had vanished - gone from sight,
The baby doves flew round and round,
They searched in vain for their cozy home,
Which lay in fragments on the ground.

The Mother dove did not return,
How hard her babies cried,
But she had taught them very well,
And they managed to survive.

 

Though it was hard, they struggled on,
And soon rebuilt their nest.
For them, then came a growing time,
When the young doves did their best.

 

Safe and secure, they had become,
And were happy once again,
And while they longed for their mother's love,
Her spirit remained with them.

Of course, she missed them dreadfully
As any mother would,
So God, in all His wisdom,
Did what He thought was good.

 

He sent another storm to earth,
Fiercer than the one before,
And the little doves, though grown now,
Were forced to fight once more.

 

A valiant battle then took place,
As the tiny birds were blown and tossed,
And when the awful storm was done,
One little dove was lost.

Angel doves flew down with comfort,
They brought tender love and smiles,
And amongst them was the mother,
Who had come to find her child.

 

When she found her precious baby,
She wrapped her up in loving wings,
Then flew with her to heaven,
To bring her to the King.
 
True, her family down on earth
Would miss her without end.
But think about the mother's joy
To be with her child again.

And think, too, of the tiny dove
Who'd have no more awful storms to face,
No more hurting - no more pain,
Just peace and love in a wondrous place.

 

Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright August 2004

Fly sweetly, little dove!

For Francine's Lorraine and Maddie