Dove in the Overgrowth

Tripped by the Overgrowth,
and all it had overtaken
across the sand blasted beaches
with the rocking, broken water,

That dancing dove dipped
from the moon to drink there,
but stumbled and fell
with the fish she once hunted,
now muted and stunted by the Overgrowth:

That shady, dark canopy
that makes the beauty
of the rocks and the muscles
near that cold gray water
so hard to see
in the bleak February breeze.