Frost Poem by John Rickell

The garden etched in white
diamonds in the wood, cold
beauty shining in the sun,
Christmas decorations
will they last 'til then
a fortnight yet to go?
sledges meant as presents
unwrapped early, indulgent
children out of school
charge the hill and tumble,
or shop with mum struggling
side walks' lethal challenge;
home to snap the icicles
from the thawing gutter
shake the tree laugh as
haw falls like snow
on the scurrying cat.