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.
Connie Yost's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Butterfly Footprints by Connie Yost )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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