more new work, whats happening to me?

I must say, three solid poems (we'll reevaluate that statement 6 months from now) in three days is pretty prolific for a man who has to think everything to infinity before he creates it. Same tone as the last one, it just seems to be whats happening. i have some questions about earnestness and poetry that i want to run by EG so we should probably talk.

(i dont know what to call it, im thinking "Tiresias"

Don’t worry mother
Tonight will not be cold.
The pigeons, look how
They flutter along the ledges of the
Old brick building.
Long-necked, with pink legs out
They spin lazy circles
Before resting again
Where they began.

No, tonight everything will be gentle.
I promise it.

If I may be poetic, let me say
That if night was coming in hand with her
Tall, freckled sister Cold—she of the laziness
She who I could not convince
To spend more time traveling or singing
Or playing volleyball—
If night and cold were coming together
The pigeons
Would be a mottled grey blanket
Massed and motionless.

and please don’t worry mother,
About all the metaphors for night,
Or it’s coming.

See,
You can hold an evening like this immediately
in your hand
Like a snow globe souvenir.
And you can shake and change
the shape of the clouds
Or the angle of the sun across the building
Or even just to make more leaves fall
From the rows of maple trees.

It’s a wonderful thing
To shake an evening until the
Sunlight falls across younger faces.
Trust me, someone else is doing it too
Maybe that’s why the pigeons keep moving.