The Kestrel and the Dove

The Kestrel and the Dove


Friday night

Saturday afternoon

Sunday in the morning

you are quiet

a ghostly wisp;

a gossamer veil:

a scent on the breeze


I recall the doves

cuddled together in their tree

coo-cooing gentle love songs

even as they sleep

and I wonder

Are you coo-cooing once more?

…and is she of the same feather?

…does she sing to you a different song

in the same coo-cooing voice she crooned


in your not so long ago past?


Your need is strong

to be turtle-doving,

softly loving

and though your tune

is soft and haunting

in those refrains from long ago

you are different,

forever changed.


You are a kestrel,

set free, at last.


The Kestrel and the Dove

though together for this brief hour

can never again

be bound by love.


Lin Cava


“Real” men; “Real” women…

Real” men; “Real” women…

Remember those books…”Real Men…”

Does anyone read anymore, or has unqualified opinion all but replaced books with not, progress, but with the cheapest in trade of the written word?

Too often we hear that we are all entitled to our opinions.  Are we; really?  Opinion is a cheap excuse, in these “thrill of the moment” times, for posting blunt, unworthy, Neanderthal essay blogs which are not only unqualified, but disdainful of our fellows upon this earth, and daunting to the progression of any good, whatsoever.  At their best, blogs can stir in one the will to accomplish positive change.  At their worst, they become the slings and arrows – not of outrageous fortune, but rather, of our times.  The internet media is the new mud-pit, and slinging mud has become a by-product of the nature of those who take delight in doing it.  What a pity that such an eloquent stage has been festooned with muck and mud to no purposeful end save for some kind of sickness that thrives on the discomfort of others. 

This place, ah, but this place can serve us so well, and with benefit offered in abundance, more so than with any other venue.  Instead, it has become cheapened by those who would, in a rather self-appreciative, self-fulfilling way – compose written posts that are posted only to hurt; and then to strut over the pain of the writer’s victims.  Education can teach one how to write, but cannot teach that which should be common sensibility. 

I marvel, daily, at the massive following those who would throw the first stone carry with them on social media.  Their bravado in posts on the internet provides them with a picture-window to their childish deeds, like the boys who call the undertaker to come to an elderly neighbor’s house.  It also provides them with a smoke-screen, a modicum of protection, the ability to hit-and-run, and lastly, and more so, fairly the lowest attribute of such writers, the ability to be confrontational without facing their victim.  These, my friends, are folks who cannot look one in the eye and say the same things that they feel free to write, to their intended targets.  These are the very same people who, before internet social networks, spread rumors, talked dirt and falsely about their friends and relatives – but could not look them in the eyes to voice their opinions. 

It is easy to voice an opinion online.  Volumes of folks will “like” it.  It fires-up the malign in them, and gives them easier venue of their own, rather than becoming educated and involved.  If we could see beyond the persona, beyond the false-faces and clever turn of a phrase, I believe what we would find are those weasels, never quite fulfilled in their own chosen lives, never quite successful at anything, but oh, so opinionated.  An old-school journalist will tell you – there is no way to post anything but blind, uninformed opinion in the kind of volume we see on “social” sites.  It takes effort and work to take the time to QUALIFY one’s opinion. 

Real men and women?  Yes, we all have opinions.  Some have the benefit of deeper insight than others, and I so value that in a person – whether a post or a face-to-face conversation.  It teaches me, it opens my own eyes, and more so, it creates an interchange between the participants that carries with it a dynamic that goes beyond the conversation.  Real men have opinions, and they are not shy about stating them.  Real men and women admit when they are wrong.   Those who don’t, well, they’re just pretenders, caught in a world of their own creation.  They live the life of those who speak in make-believe tongues, and live through alternate universes – usually created by others; others with true talent. 

Why do I opine?  I have seen those I care for hurt.  Hurt by those who are all grins and giggles at their own self-fulfilling posts, happy to see them paid for in pain, and prospering by the kudos of their followers. 

Real women and men invite your comments – may disagree – but are always open to a legitimate point of view we may have missed, or misconstrued.

Real men – real women, the invitation is extended.  You all see the same things as I do – so what are your thoughts?