Shoo Away, by Meerub Tariq

A shadow swept over my head,

then anchored to the far end of the wall.

I halted, closing the distance

behind its back.

It did not flinch.

Its pupils moved in a frantic clockwork,

without settling on a point for long.

The sun hung low, a piece of gold.

Azan drifted from the distance.

It should have been in its nest by now,

So I threw a stone.

Sending it away at the speed it came.

Go live falsely,

This ender of the tryst uttered,

The beloved did arrive, indeed.

Later, the blue-light of the phone revealed

The identity of that wanderer:

Zenaida macroura.

Mourning Dove.