Vain Frost II

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 whiteness calls everything into highlighted contrast.

*

Your arrival means I can see my breath.

All is delineated:

Dips and swirls in the grass,

Weft and weave

Combed into existence by the rake;

Each leaf individualised, made their own

By your cold exclusive attention.

They are stiff, immobile but look better for it:

Groomed. Quiffed.

Like Hokusai, you show up the waves.

Leaves curled show their rigour

More clearly: white contrasting brown decay.

*

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,

But no matter:

You know you will reappear better, thicker

Enduring as Winter's darkness,

Your accomplice, shadows our world

And dismisses Sun:

Feeble effort, fiery one.

*

You are 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 scraped away

And exhaust billows puff the air,

Clouding with misty droplets.

*

There is no denying the beauty

Of the cold paleness of your skin.

I dislike your cold

But I admit: I like your style.