GREENHOUSE

A mourning dove
passes over wintry trees
in the sunshine
never a bother to pause
along rows of berries
by an earth-wise stalker
who lives homeless
in the fields
hoping for a harvest
of flora and fauna
as harbingers
of a revived greenhouse
under a shade of trees,
now nesting bird feathers
rise in the March air
as once exiled clouds
surpassed my horizon.