Today in the notch, despite the mere scrim
of a late March snow, rainy flakes barely frozen,
falling, liquefied, through an early morning
even the casual eye could catch
(captured in a momentary parting of fog)
the small grey buds of the red maple,
the low spark, purple flame of crocus.
Originally written for NaPoWriMo in 2010, revised and posted here for this week’s prompt, Transition, at: ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION.