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Poems by Michael Heckman

I saw a cardinal at the window

It sat on the ledge of my fifth-floor dorm

And looked into my room

Like a pet store display

I do not know what it thought

But it flew away quickly

And I saw a blue jay in a yard

Its white specks matched the light frost

And it bounced around,

Pecking at the ground

It was not my plot of land

But I still felt proud

And I saw a goldfinch at our home

It ate the seeds in our yellow bird feeder

And looked content enough

To ignore my intrusion

I hope it will decide to bring friends

When I refill the feeder

And I saw one of the blackbirds

That I helped raise in its youth years ago

And it flew over me

While singing its blackbird blues

It was good to know that

The birds still care back

Just one of the symptoms

My planet orbits a black hole, which has

already taken most of our solar

system's planets. Our sun, the ball of gas

that once lit the sky, is now a goner.

Scientists say we have sixty-three years

before we cross the point of no return.

The event horizon, our greatest fear,

will make the black hole our deep dark void urn.

How am I supposed to go on with life,

knowing that no matter what I do, it

won't matter? That for all my woes and strife,

it will all be destroyed in cosmic fit?

I've never seen the sun, but all the light

in all of space can't make my future bright.