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
Too far above my head for my eyes to see.
I held my camera high and clicked.