jack frost

    Newer Older

    50 Watts, and 14 other people added this photo to their favorites.

    1. Giles Watson's poetry and prose 65 months ago | reply

      Lovely image... Please delete if you feel this is an imposition - I won't be offended!

      Jack Frost

      In my grandmother’s larder
      With the cellar down below,
      His finger taps the window
      The frost flowers for to grow;

      They grow like ferns in summer
      But are fed by freezing cold;
      They stem from purest water,
      Not soil or leafy mould.

      They fill each pane with foliage
      Of crystal, fine of frond;
      While Jack Frost laughs without the house,
      Snowflakes cavort beyond.

      He nips the nose of every child
      When they walk out to school,
      And leaves a floating pane of glass
      On every muddy pool.

      He makes the milker’s cheek go red,
      The grass turns crisp like straw;
      The world shall wake in cloak of white
      When Jack Frost rides before.

      And he shall flee when sunlight comes,
      His plantings shall not linger,
      Until the world goes dark again,
      Then out he whips his finger:

      My granny’s larder window,
      Wiped clean, shall grow once more
      Ferns and moss washed clear of green
      On a crystal forest floor.

      Poem G. Watson, 2000.

    keyboard shortcuts: previous photo next photo L view in light box F favorite < scroll film strip left > scroll film strip right ? show all shortcuts