Birches in Winter

These thin red fingers
of white birches that grasp at
winter skies—they can’t
touch the pale sun, nor can our
cold hands reach one another.
Update: Andrew Griffin wrote a response to this one very quickly.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
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3 Responses to Birches in Winter

  1. Pingback: after Birches in Winter by John Mackenzie | tankawanka

  2. leyla Iten says:

    This is really wonderful, and I’ve been looking for more work like thins on your blog – can you direct me? Or is it yet to come?

    Like

    • John MacKenzie says:

      Hi Leyla, and thank you. There are more poems like this to come. But if you click the poetry category in the list just under the post, it will lead you to this link, https://mumblinjack.wordpress.com/category/poetry-2/, which should help you find all the poems I’ve posted so far, some are long, some are short. Some of them are in posts where I’m talking about poetry or the writing process. And you’ll probably find Federico Garcia Lorca’s “Lament for Ignacio Sánchez Mejías” as I posted it because I love that poem.

      Like

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