While waiting for Spring to spring
I took inventory of the cold dead
Surroundings and discovered
The starlings had died, the pigeons
Had flown and the snowbirds
Took selfies in Tampa-St.Pete
And decided, while there, it
Was high time they bought
Some Gulf Coast real estate.

The climate may have changed
Elsewhere, but here the cold
Has iron claws and refuses to
Be evicted, like some squatter
Of the damned. And it doesn’t care
A whit what it’s doing to my bones and soul
Or the fact that I’ve had to put off
At least one nostalgic jaunt
To check in on my checkered past.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing
As looking backwards has
Always been a talent of mine;
But I’m suddenly of the mind
That what might be good for
The poems is hell on the heart
And it’s really time to close
That one door so the promised
Other one can swing on open.

Yeah, it’s high time to make
New memories, with new people
And let the old ones find me if
They have the mind. I googled
Myself the other day and it’s all
There, the sordid exo-skeleton
Of my life, so if anyone’s interested
You can even catch my driveway
On Street cam, and see my neighbor
Throwing out her trash.

I should throw the old stuff out
Without looking, knowing I
Have a tendency to read the
Old yellowed writings with
A misty eye, and see young girls
As if they’d never aged, and
Young men as if they never would.

It’s nice to think all clocks stopped
In the 60’s, but as I listen to the radio
I realize I like Taylor Swift as much
As I ever did the Doors, so at
Least my tastes didn’t turn to stone
The way some of my buddies did.
The starlings aren’t the only
Birds that died, but they’ll be back
This autumn if nature has its way.

It’s only us humans to whom
The past keeps on living
Even when it is as dead
As the birds I don’t hear chirping
On the wires outside my home.
Difference is, I finally see,
The birds will eventually return.

Waiting for Spring
To spring I’m beginning to get
How much I miss their song

03/30/2015

Posted on 03/30/2015
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch