the birds pinwheel across the morning sky <br />no songs today, no sharp melodies of theirs <br />spring has gone, and will not be back for <br />some time, and they demand a reason why <br /> <br />go inside, close the door, where winter has <br />already bitten the cold metal handle, watch <br />the sun try to warm the ice, try to regain <br />its control, try to shine more brilliant than <br /> <br />the ice that hangs from the rooftops, than <br />the headlights that pry at the coming night <br />while the birds pinwheel, try to escape sky <br />while the winter tries to overtake this land <br /> <br />and I cannot hold this season tight enough <br />I cannot make this feeling, this weathered thing <br />stay, it is too much at home being anything <br />but home, but love, but the place where birds go<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/birds-have-wings-of-longing-i/
