A milky-eyed mourning dove
Sat upon a tombstone - tacit -
Inside the grounds of St. Francis
To admire a cache betroved.

A sentinel's duty - it bears -
Not broken by a morning beam -
Even the shuffle of the wind
Could not disturb the atmosphere.

The dove - it eyed me peacefully -
Let out a feathered sigh.
I felt it - walking on by -
That blessed serenity.