Those First Fine Crystals of Frost

Sunday sonnet

Photo by William J Spirdione

The sun shines brightly. Bright as I can stand.
As bright as one November morning may.
Near-freezing temperatures numb my hand.
This morning lands like any Autumn day.

Here comes that biting breeze that chills the soul.
That dark green cold of pine trees standing tall.
Feels cold enough to nip. Wind plays its role.
The leaves cast shade. I pause and watch them fall.

It’s just too warm for ice to form, but look.
This lawn where softly shaded, starts to freeze.
Ice crystals grow. I note it in my book.
The grass is green beneath the barren trees.

I watch the sparkling sunlit frost take hold.
I see the season glimmer in the cold.

Photo by William J Spirdione

Thank you, Katie Michaelson and The Daily Cuppa, for publishing these Sunday sonnets.