you leave without a kiss
and the morning sky blushes
pink
at the slight-
as the spiteful south wind whispers
‘he’s left
he’s gone’
but not a word from the mourning doves
hushed by the evergreen cedars
shushing
the mournful song
as too imperfect
for the circumstance

*** A bit of drama in the early morning as a husband rushes off to work and a wife is left filling bird feeders in the backyard. Such drama, such heartbreak …. smiles K