Connie Yost (5/27/38 / Reed City, Michigan)
Jack Frost is arriving to work in the garden,
Then on to the windows and when he's done there,
Let's look for his portraits of feathrery frostlings,
Lightheartedly rendered with autumnal flair.
Find intricate traces in mystical spaces,
Where butterfly footprints are part of the art.
And if we can see them midst curlicues swirling,
Then here is a masterful painting with heart.
Much lavish designing in filigree silver,
For elegant minutes is lit by the sun.
With spirited flourish, embellished creations,
So fragile and fleeting are second to none.
Find crystals exquisite when Jack comes to visit,
He paints the wild rushes and touches the pears.
His practice is old and the story is told us,
That each of his brushes has only three hairs.
Comments about this poem (Butterfly Footprints by Connie Yost )
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