Frosted Mornings

Frosted Mornings

A spot of light appears;

It touches the fairies' art,

The morning begins early;

The stars begin to fade.

A rim of pink shows pearly

Along the far horizon laid.

Little sparkles begin to glow,

Tiny edges are sharp

And fresh against the snow.

Traces of crystals on the bark

Are outlines of Nature’s art.

Great designs of geometric shapes ,

Everything looks bright and new

Until the sun’s rays

Make them fly;

Until Father Frost paints again

In darkness and in shadow

And fairies’ footprints leave

A trace of midnight magic;

Telling stories of the past

And Nature in her glory.