Monday, December 12, 2016


When iced breath of night is exhaled
Clarity is spun coldly about living things
Tis a seeing glass that wraps about growth
To set its glossy crust of harm on promise
Only to depart on the first kiss of dawn
This swift yet ruinous embrace of rime
Like lover's promises before ardour withdraws
All wilts under the early morning sun
The rigid stem is broken and droops
And only blasted leaves now remain 
What fools we were to think of more
To let patience usurp a wanton desire
That makes us cultivate too quickly
When still there is ever risk of more frost