Hoarfrost & Slip-Ice

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65 words
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Winter is old
and cold
to the bone

That ancient word hoar frost cackled
as his old man's fire crackled
snapped alone
on a farm of a wintry night

White in black is swirls and wind dyed
dark iced roads and wrecks T-fried
icicles flicker red
from the abyss
of winter's dark Abbess

If you are lucky enough
a popsicle is still possible

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  • COMMENTS
2 Comments
Syndra LynnSyndra Lynnabout 19 years ago
The first stanza made me yell, "Hell yes!"

But this stanza is my favorite:

That ancient word hoar frost cackled

as his old man's fire crackled

snapped alone

on a farm of a wintry night

Nice work

sacksackabout 19 years ago
I loved this the first time....

and always find your poems well worth reading. I do miss your public comments...always searching and obviously from the heart. Thanks for sharing this!

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