by Maria Bonar

A young dove builds her first nest on
a precarious nook on my front porch.
A previous site of windblown disaster
strewn twigs, woolly strands, broken eggs

She bills and coos loudly, announcing
her flimsy new domicile to all. I tread
lightly when leaving and arriving home

At night, her movements constantly
trigger my porch sensor camera.
She doesn’t seem to mind the limelight

A large huntsman spider once spun
his web in the same spot. I’m sure
he deliberately triggered the light
to amuse himself and attract moths

gyrating on his web like a disco dancer
lights flashing and strobing, then patiently
lying in wait, ready to pounce.

My dove’s nest lasts only three days.
On the fourth day, broken nest and twigs
litter the porch. She is absent.

Next morning, a circle of scattered dove
feathers in the garden. I suspect a cat has
taken her, but no beak or claws remain

I visit my daughter several miles away.
She spies a kestrel on the fence outside
her window. Below, a ring of feathers
surround a naked plucked bird.

Oven ready as a supermarket chook.
She snaps a few pictures before the
kestrel swoops, reclaims his prize
flies off with the family dinner.

• Ballajura, Western Australia
  Traditional land of the Whadjuk
  people of the Nyoongar Nation.