Tuesday, April 9, 2019

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





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