The hour of hoar frost
Crisp and cool
Freshly frozen frosty foliage.
A painted picture.
A portrait.
A portrayal.
A personification,
Of bountiful bliss.
The morning is such a precious time.
I’m so seemingly susceptible,
To see,
So willing to accept,
The gift.
Gifts in perfect packages.
Frozen lakes and fuzzy frost
For as far as the eye can see
Forever…
Covering this place,
This place I call home.
What a blessing,
To see.
To see this morning
The way…
A painted picture
Of crisp soft whites,
Fresh frost
It’s so easy to see,
So easy to receive,
A gift.
My eyes, liquid shinny pools,
Of bliss.
My eyes like liquid lakes,
Soft and full,
Receiving.
This hour,
This hour of hoar frost.