When A Southwest Wind Stirs Magnolia Petals

So. We never did walk together in
A cool May’s sweet and inky scent
Whispering from white blossoms

And now under Iowa soil you have
Neither voice nor thought. You have no
Knowledge of how spring pulls all
This colour from pale, entangled roots

(You don’t care if it rains enough for corn,
You won’t notice how a farmer
You may have traded nods with
Might kneel in a field across the road

To feel how earth will crumble in his hands)
While my grey and thin hair moves in
A spring wind you cannot feel in yours.

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, Art is lies, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Magnolias, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, Spring, The Brain, The Wind. Bookmark the permalink.

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