Good morning

It is still this morning. 
Loud car next door, no longer there.
Kids not going to school.  
No trucks on road being productive.
Today just quiet and still except
the haunting call of the mourning dove.
For who does she mourn, for humanity?
Or lost friends or unfound love?
Why is her call not a happy one?

Maybe if she only knew
how beautiful the morning is.
As the light streams through the trees,
she may remember why she came this way
and that it meant something
to those whose hearts are open,
and who cannot help but smile
for the good morning it is.
Remembering why we came this way.