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