A North Wind Ravels

Midnight and now the full moon falls
Down the other side of the sky.
A north wind ravels skeins of snow
Along the river frozen black.

A dead spruce stands among the fir
In snow here up to their green skirts.
An owl calls on a branch somewhere
Above me—will I see him fly?

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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