It snowed yesterday: nothing major, just enough to flock the trees. This morning, I was grateful that we'd bought the extendable-arm scraper as I cleaned off the truck windshield and the top of the cab. Lots of mist/fog on the drive to Williamsport, but the roads were fine. It's Friday, and I'll post this evening about a chapbook, but for now, here's the "daily poem" I will read to my comp students:
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.
Alec Hershman: The Egg Goes Under
1 week ago