Reflections on a stormy, early spring day along the Jordan River Parkway

OK. I have no idea what this is.

A poem? Prose?

A cawing of a crow in its poor impersonation of a songbird?

Whatever. You tell me.

Here it is, from a stormy early spring afternoon, thoughts written down from my outdoor patio, two dogs at my feet as rain drenched the Jordan River Parkway.

           ______________

Too Early

Spring is newborn

Rain falls, but winter's breath lingers

Cottonwood bloomed

Too early

Not hail, unconvinced slush

Gray raindrops end on new grass

Days-old white blossoms

Stripped

A sigh, a silent wet landing

Ivory perfection one breath, then

pedals decapitated, slowly interred

Mud unmarked

But not forgotten

Life, so brief, fragile, beautiful

I saw your advent, your decay

Remembered