NOTE: a flock of doves is variously called a cote, dole, dule, bevy, flight, and piteousness.

If my peace was like a dove 
A wooing, cooing ball of fluff 
I’d catch a little flight of them 
And find serenity again 

But every time that I have tried 
To visualize, to catch some sight 
Of the piteousness said to stop wars
Assuage wounds, bruises and sores 

It flutters out of my mind’s eye
I’m left gazing at an empty sky
And so I looked for something else
To calm my inner sweeps and swells 

And then one day it came tiptoeing 
Into my quietest imaginings 
The vision of a tranquil lake 
A gentle, shimmering, blue-green slate

Now when my hurrying-scurrying world without 
Seems like it’s turning upside down 
I close my eyes and I transport 
Myself to that peaceful spot 

I’m far away from everything 
My troubles bolt, they take wing
My core gleams softly in the place 
Where I sit by the lapping lake 

My inner peace, a dove she’s not 
But all the stillness I have sought
Is by a lake, without its birds
They await me in my outside world.