Hoarfrost

On a recent morning I awoke to a world surrounded by crystal. A fine rain had frozen on every plant and blade of grass--a most magical scene that nature has ever derived. I have tried to catch some of that magic in the poem “Hoarfrost”.

Hoarfrost
She comes at night
To put her carpets down.
Walk so light-a mantel of crystal
On withered grass and weed-stem leaf.
Hurry, light cracks the eastern sky,
tread so gentle
The work is hair fine spun.
Come quickly now-at sunlights first peak
All is gone.
But yet hush-a wisp of wind.
A world of sound now to begin.
Think not of summer’s coat.
Thorns leaves stem all jewel encased
Preserved for later date.