Two and the moon, we lay beneath a star-sprinkled sky. The hill frosted before our eyes each grass blade a sugar-frosted sabre, each leaf a glistening butterfly, each breath a sparkling ghost. Two diamonds lost to love, we glittered, the night closing around us like a jewellery box.
Crystalline you bring the white
That sparkles through the dark of night
The cold of breath, the misting air
A touch of winter everywhere
And who, you say, is such a man
To launch this diamond carpet plan
To chatter teeth, his aim and boast
He is Jack Frost, the morning ghost
Carpeted frost does glisten to me
Lain across dawn, grasses, and tree
A trillion jewels that will melt with the light
What an awakening from another long night
How is that everything can look so complete
Wrapped up in cobwebs and diamonds, so neat
I’ll linger a little, then run a bit more
This world full of frost is just one I adore
(Image courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)
A North wind’s blowing
Frost prickles the ground
Herds wrapped in sheepskins
Just wander around
The crows all have sore throats
As trees creak with ice
The world standing frozen
Especially the mice
A new January morning
Where white stands apart
It’s glacial all over
Except in our hearts
Sugar-coated crispness laid upon a bed of thorns
Tinkles in the wan light of a birthing dawn.
A delicate moment captured before passing into obscurity.
I wonder: how many more such moments we miss?
In morning light
Sent from heaven
To guide my way
On this first cold
And frosty day
The brittle fingers of a first frost
Have crept over my flesh.
It is a fleeting taste of what’s to come,
An early morning whitewash
Striving to glitter through urban fogs.
The last leaves of an Autumn shed
Crinkled and crisp beneath my feet
An aural accompaniment to the seasonal image:
How refreshing; how pretty; how cold!
Oaken framed deer
Frolic on ice frosted fields
I pass unnoticed
A frost on the meadow
It’s early this year;
Of purest white.
Breath steams about me
Soul trying to flee,
But temperature forbids
And returns it to my warm core
With tail tucked between legs.
So brittle a morning
No dew to take hold;
No birds on the fields;
No pale sun to feign warmth.
Yet, a thing of dreams is this
A result of winter’s kiss.
I pause in my walking
To sample the scene
Bask in tranquility,
Gaze at preserved landscape,
Then, beat my hands together
And move on.
After all, it is so very cold.
Innumerable in quantity,
You sheaf our world
In sparkling delight.
Painted over landscape,
Scattered across morn,
A porcelain awakening,
Before insurmountable beauty
Is even known.
To see an early frost
Sprinkled over existence,
Is to know creation
At its best.
And so soon later
It has all gone,
And all we are left with
Is a morning dew
And glacial memories.
(Image courtesy Alliec on deviantart.com)