new york doves

the courtyard

the space in the middle of the block
between architecture
inaccessible but through buildings
or the sky

it has its own weather
a garden where wind works different

a few trees reach for the fragment of sky
through the barren cold
they grow heavy encased in ice

doves coo in courtyards
tender notes of morning

they dont teem like pigeons
they choose ledges and viney walls to call home
with less stigma on their names