Sickle moon casts headstone shadows faintly
on the snow above the Widow Jane Mine;
pale, unmarked tablets of limestone miners
who kilned cement for the Brooklyn Bridge.

From flanking ridgelines, Great Horned Owls dual,
hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo…
spanning the little, nameless valley of the dead.

Very nice, Yor. I found myself completely seeing the images.

Yes, it's nice for Gunks.com to have a poet laureate as it were.