Out onto the stage she waddled
A beautiful ring-necked dove
The audience hushed at once
In the opera house of the mind
Knowing any move would scare her
She stopped to turn and look at us
And then proceeded to her mark
Clearly aware of the danger
We pretended not to pose
But the consummate artist she was
Soared through her repertoire of coos
With graceful fluttering of wings
And hovering mid-air she rose
In fear and love of earthly things
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