Consider That I Am Mistaken

I’m sure there is someone I almost remember
Who may have once told me they’d never forget
The blue of my eyes in mid-winter sunlight
When the geese were long gone and the gulls alone
Might be heard over the harbour, a broken
Bagpipe band skirling in northwesterly winds.

I will not consider that I am mistaken;
That only the moon ever looked back at me
While I whispered under the evergreen trees
About how a dust from mid-summer lindens
Lingered, fragrant, on our January thighs.
I will not consider how often I’ve stood
Watching how the river enters the harbour
Under the bridge; current quick, quiet, and free.

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, Consciousness, Gulls, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Lindens, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Sea, The Sky, The Wind, Wild Geese. Bookmark the permalink.

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