February 8, 2012 § 3 Comments

Iowa gave me a pretty, pretty present to welcome me back.

These are the kinds of frosts that remind you that the world contains magic.

Explain it away as scientifically as you please, and I may even listen with interest. But that won’t take the thrill out of waking up to this.

Everything’s changed. Made at once softer, colder, lace-trimmed. Given that sort of peace that falls with a covering of white, and its gray and blue shadows.

Step carefully, outside. Try not to bump branches or brush fences, or they’ll lose their fair dusting. Breathe quietly.

Wonder, won’t you, at frost’s fine spell?

§ 3 Responses to Frost

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