Goethe's Statue
Robert Michael O'Hearn
Lake Michigan winds kiss the copper brown,
as if by proxy on Goethe's statuary gown;
blends well enough with browning grasses
where wisps of snow melt into brown puddles.
Lincoln Park lagoon must harbor ancient bones
with overhangs of gnarled tree limbs
extended skyward like wrought iron filigree
seemingly refracted off the frozen ice.
As usual, there's no point to any January,
that turns deaf ear to early arriving spring,
as you scan over the scenery expectantly
like waiting for a Mr. Godot's phone ring:
Yet sensed something subtle creeping up in mind
reflexive as Goethe's statue patinalized behind.
