a fleeting gem

on every bare branch buds of water hang
a kind of spring announcement i suppose
each little jewel won't become a rose
but equally won't end with a big bang
the culmination will be drip not clang
but for the moment they're all in repose
no blossom though when sharp wind blows
nor fruit to come no odour and no tang
rain-produced diamonds in this faded light
the harbingers of better warmer days
what purpose have they in their silent speech
the rain that lasted most of the past night
will in its way brighten the sun's fresh rays
the import of this is well within our reach