Vain Frost
Chilling out with Winter and his buddies
You have finally arrived
And as usual, you sugar coat everything.
You would choose a day when the light is perfect!
Vain, conceited frost.
Even the pigeon, the butler of birds,
Perched on the greening fence
Has his appearance heightened:
His feathers rivened on his grey tailored coat,
His back declaring his vigilance;
His profile clearly demarked in the sun,
As he squints or basks, I'm not sure which.
Your arrival means I can see my breath.
Everything is delineated:
The dips and swirls in the grass
Where its weft and weave
Have been combed by the rake
All individualised, made their own
By your cold attention.
They are stiff with it but look better for it:
Groomed.
Like Hokusai, you show up the waves.
Leaves curled, show their death
More clearly: white contrasting brown decay.
The sun is searching for you
And I know you:
You will not hide.
You will revel in your temporary presence,
Showy and glistening
Until Sun's weakening warmth
Liquifies your hold,
Knowing that you will reappear better, thicker
And last longer as Winter's darkness,
Your accomplice, shadows our world
And dismisses the Sun.
Nature's Terminator,
Born to be melted and reform.
You will pattern and crisp,
Crystallise and fracture.
You will make mornings longer
As your icy touch is fended off
And exhaust billows puff the air.
I dislike your cold
But I admit: I like your style.
There is no denying the beauty
Of the paleness of your skin.
***
I sort of like frost and I sort of don't. It is beautiful, there's no denying it but it also means it's cold and whilst I like the crispness of days like today, I dislike the inconvenience of defrosting my car and thinking about wearing layers and searching for that forever elusive pair of gloves.
I tried to capture that mixture of feelings in this poem.
Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please comment as I love to know what my readers are thinking and interact with you.
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Comments (13)
This is also great - saw that your new entry was a 2nd poem to one of the same name so came hunting it down! Great work, chum!
I am in love with the way your words painted the picture and conflicted feelings of this chilly time of year. What gorgeous language. Quite a lovely poem :)
Very, very well-wrought! And synchronistic for me, as my oldest daughter and I were just remarking to each other not long ago how the cold air brings clarity to the horizon and freezes the world in a halo of pure light! You really hit the nail on the head here! Thanks for sharing!
I love a good nature poem, but this one is excellent!
Beautifully delicate & clever… “the grass… weft and weave … combed by the rake.” I love cold weather, but frost burnt grass isn’t so pretty… sadly, always a price to pay.
I loved that you said the pigeons are the butler of birds. I too feel snow is so beautiful but I would just straight up freeze and die if I experienced it. Lol. Loved your beautiful poem!
it was amazingly beautiful
Great poem. 👏 🥶 I too think I’d only like its style rather than the results.. we don’t have that problem here.. at least not where I’m from. 😊
But I admit, I like your style. Me too. Like a cat, vicious, and gleamingly beautiful, unabashedly what it is.
Beautiful exploration of nature -Loved the image of the pigeon as a butler. Now I've ssen it, I can't unsee it! I feel similarly about frost but it is indeed very beautiful in a tragic kind of way 🤍
The ghost of Samuel Taylor Coleridge must be grinning at this poem. "His back declaring his vigilance;" is as precise a description of a particular, avian posture as I have met.
I think the poem does a great job of portraying the intricate connection between humans and nature.
Great imagery 💕❄️