Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry
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 that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
-Howard Nemerov, U.S. Poet Laureate 1963-64 & 1988-90