Rain falling on bare branches,

Rain that had turned from snow

To draw the day to greyness,

Merging the diverging city shapes

Into some vague collage. . .

Rain clinging to bare branches

In tiny droplets

Like crystal buds of some alien spring

Reflecting in their transparent spheres

Their miniature replicas

Of a world too large

To be embodied

In the myriad mirrors

Of the rain.