The First Frost
Winter here and it feels like a long time to wait for summer
First Frost
Beneath the veil of twilight’s breath,
A silver web weaves nature’s dress.
Each blade adorned, each branch agleam,
A painter’s touch, a fragile dream.
The meadow holds its crystal bloom,
A fleeting dance in morning’s loom.
Each frozen petal, sharp and bright,
A moment born of winter’s bite.
The world is hushed, a sacred hush,
Where frost-kissed whispers gently brush.
Beneath the spell, the earth stands still,
Bound by the artistry of chill.
Yet with the sun, the magic wanes,
Its fleeting beauty softens, drains.
The frost retreats, a memory fades,
But lingers still in light’s cascade.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
This poem beautifully captures the essence of winter's first frost. The imagery is vivid and evocative, painting a picture of a serene and magical landscape. The contrast between the delicate beauty of the frost and the harshness of winter is striking. The final lines, in particular, offer a poignant reflection on the transitory nature of beauty and the passage of time.