Because You Asked about the Line between Prose and Poetry


Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

— Howard Nemerov

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *