"Because You Asked About the Line Between Prose and Poetry," Howard Nemerov, Contemporary American Poetry, p. 122
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 you couldn't tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
"Transfiguration," Darren Delfosse
Droplets were disseminating in a frenzied sheet
That while you yearned turned into nails of divinity
Trending a barely perceptible nuance
From pure aqua to nine, inched, and menacing.
There was a time when you really couldn't see
How they froze from something pure to something ugly.
I wonder if you might just write "Icicles" at the top and begin with this:
ReplyDeleteThere was a time when you really couldn't see
How they froze from something pure to something ugly.
What I admire there is there's a particular context, a you and I, and a memory of another time. It's all set up wonderfully for you then to explore why, and under what circumstances the you would think that.