On Each Side

The coos of a mourning dove
floated in the air
as I woke from sleep this morning.
Now, as dusk gathers,
I again hear the comforting call.

I’m remembering
a wooden door
in a stone frame
standing alone at the bottom of a hill
near my old school.
There is something mysterious
and magical
about a door
that leads to open space
on both sides.

Today, what measure
angst, and what measure
peace? The day opened
to both.

I strum my guitar.
I wonder if the birds outside
can hear the chords I play.

(March 2026)