No Wonder the Gulls

No wonder the gulls
ache in the sky all summer—
the north wind whistles
always in their hollow bones,
holds their wings deep in winter

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Charlottetown, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, Tanka, The Sea, The Wind, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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