What Trace

A pudgy, blameless

Backyard turtledove,

Here aptly nameless,

Has lost to red-tailed hawk

Off sheltering rock

His splendid ladylove.

He dallied quite around

With not a sigh nor sound

To see what mortal trace

Of her angelic face

Remained

Bloodstained

For to be sooner found

On bouldered solid ground.