Editor’s note: Reader Mike Korn introduced us to this poem written by a dear departed friend, whose son granted permission for The Monitor to republish it.
“Coming to Montana in the 1960s, Mike Logan was a teacher at Helena High, an inveterate outdoorsman and a voracious fly fisherman,” Korn said in an email. “He became a nationally recognized photographer, with his images of Yellowstone, wildlife and Montana life and landscapes appearing in numerous periodicals and books. Mike also wrote cowboy poetry, and was a regular emcee and featured poet at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada, and at Montana’s Cowboy Poetry Gatherings in Big Timber and Lewistown. He appeared on a John Denver television special and the Charles Kuralt Show, and in 2006 was named Male Cowboy Poet of the Year by the Academy of Western Artists. ‘Song of Spring’ has always been one of my favorite range rhymes. It celebrates winter breakup marked by the sounds and sights of early spring. And he described it in the typical Mike Logan style of elegant simplicity.”
The Song of Spring
By Mike Logan
I heard the song of spring, last night.
It began like some ancient rune.
Old as life itself, it was,
And I recognized the tune.
I heard the wild geese sing, last night,
Far up where they always fly.
A lovely high skied nocturne, they sang,
Winging north in a velvet sky.
I heard the moonsinger howl, last night,
A ballad he’d learned to croon,
Months before on a snowswept ridge,
Silhouetted on the hunger moon.
I heard the creek break loose, last night,
From its hoary armoured bond.
A glorious free voiced chant it raised
As it poured from the frozen pond.
I heard the wind god too, last night,
His primordial wind song blow
On his trumpet huge the warm soft notes
That drove away the snow.
All these things I heard, last night,
And they formed in ancient rune.
Old as life itself it was,
And I rejoiced to hear the tune.
