Frost Poem by Larry Schreckengost

Last night Jack Frost
Carved his icy name
Across our window pane
The fire built to match the night
Would not abide first light
Cold wind whistled through
A breezy chimney flue

Frost is here to make a claim
For the season's name
Beckoning an early snow
Ending the time of pasture mow
Squashing field pumpkins low
Bending Hydrangea faces down
Turning them an umber brown

Frost beats an icy drum
Numbs the breeze
Razing the hardwood
Soon absent all their pretty leaves
Time for the burning of these
And lay the ax to fallen trees

Time to bring the old cat in
For needle eyes filled with thread
And writing poetry again
Time for books I haven't read
And yes, time to make an old buck dead

Time for Deck the Halls
And mistletoe
Dancing with you very slow
New Year's Eve, a kiss for me
Photographs from a keepsake box
Long talks and coffee hot
Time to find the cards and penny jar
And time to think about the spring