North Side Pigeon

North Side Pigeon    March 13, 2013

Winter dies a merciful death

Wrested away by a divine force

That lives and dies annually.

For now, though, I shall say, "Nay,"

And be the North Side pigeon

Coasting through the sky

Every night for nine innings.

I abhor the time when winter

Curses us with Jack Frost's nip

And oppresses the masses

With skeletal trees and snow-like ash.

Yes, it is now spring,

And I shall fly north to return to my perch

Atop the big shoulders of the city --

It is time for The Show to return.

O' beautiful spring!

Lush with a kiss from the phoenix,

I hear the sound of wood striking hide,

And I immediately feel twenty years younger,

And the sight of little boys

Imbued within their heroes delights me,

And my countenance beckons

A cascade of Americana --

There can be no other hope

For America's sweet disposition

Than for me, the North Side pigeon,

To glide across the shallow heavens

As if an angel in the sky.

I feel the urge to scream,

To emit pure, rapturous noise pollution

As a fanatic not locked in an asylum.

I want to play with these boys of summer,

To liberate my soul of the wild inhibitions,

But I fear I must relegate myself

To finding peace within a box seat,

Rooting on the home team

To an October filled with fortune and glory.

There can be no greater feeling, then,

Than to be the eyes of God

Watching the national pastime

Accrue greater historical significance

That will warrant greater reflection.

My countenance reads to the onlooker

A story of ecstasy and grandeur

Such as the average soul never experiences

But for springtime musings.

Thus and forever more,

I will never forget spring

When it is time to cross over into summer,

For spring is the time I return north

To seek glorious summer's rewards.