Frost’s Fleeting Touch

The dawn's soft blush ignites the skies,

And gilds the frost that paints the land.

A fleeting moment under lies,

The artist’s brush, so cold, so grand.

Winter waits, its breath draws nearer,

Whispering truths none hold dearer.

~

The frost that paints the land below,

A delicate and fleeting guise,

Cradles each blade in silver glow,

Beneath the autumn’s soft demise.

A fragile truth, a fleeting muse,

Beauty the season dares to lose.

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A delicate and fleeting guise,

Evanescent, its shimmer bright,

Holds secrets in its frozen ties,

A fleeting song sung through the night.

Soon, winter’s voice will grow clearer,

Its grasp on the world, much nearer.

~

Evanescent, its shimmer bright,

Reflects a world of fleeting things.

A tapestry of cold and light,

Where every moment softly sings.

To linger here, to pause, to see,

Is to glimpse life’s brevity.

~

Reflects a world of fleeting things,

This frost upon the earth’s embrace.

Its fragile weave, its silver strings,

Fade with the morning’s warming grace.

Yet, in its vanishing, it shows,

The depth of what each moment knows.

~

This frost upon the earth’s embrace,

A fleeting hymn of time and place,

Will haunt the heart with tender trace,

When winter’s harshness hides its face.

In beauty’s fading, we discern,

The fragile gifts we never earn.