The Frost

The dark grass glitters;

the frost lies like white diamonds

‘neath deadbolted clouds.

The trees stand frozen.

They creak and crack with each move

like old men stretching.

The birds huddle down

In their nests on ball-like eggs,

set to hike for spring.

The wind blows to earth.

Its breath seeks to warm the skin.

Ice melts from its mouth.

The dark, nervous clouds

are impulsive now. They wait

and pace for Spring’s birth.

At last day breaks through.

The sun slashes night and ice.

Spring is broken loose.