Because You Asked
about the Line Between Prose and Poetry
by Howard Nemerov
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned to 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.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
Thank you, I have never been able to put this revisited into words, except by using "Look! It's changing to snow!"
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