Mourning Dove

 There are no Mourning doves in these photographs.    But there are eggs.

Two, almost blue, elliptical eggs nestled upon a throne of tender;

remaining still while their mother took flight

frightened to have a human so close.

Startled by sudden flap of heavy wings

crashing upward through the pine boughs

I became suspicious, then saw

the nest.

Too far above my head for my eyes to see.

I held my camera high and clicked.