Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry by Howard Nemerov

Hello, midnight. Happy birthday, self.

Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry
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.

10 Comments

  1. Ah, a lovely poem. Many lovely poems here. Thank you. I found you looking up Frank O’Hara, and I am fortunate for the discovery. Happy belated birthday.

    — David

  2. See? We, the members of your doting audience, care about you. In the capacity, of course, that an audience can. Another year; another accomplishment–you’ve lived it through. Happy Birthday, T.

  3. Dear T, I have never commented on your blog even though I often find myself looking to it for treasures that speak to my soul. I have always felt we have the same taste in poetry. And now, I see that your birthday is March 15, and mine March 16. I thought that was beautiful, and that it was time to speak up. May you enjoy celebrating your day of birth!

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