First Frost
The air is chilled
A white frost
Has spilled
Where the mesa's
Sharp edges sparkle
I do not know the exact
Hour this happened
Nor who is responsible
Perhaps unbidden
Ghosts from the hillside
Gathered to create
Such a transformation
The sky a pristine
Blue patch
Over nature's
Temple
I fall to my
Knees to worship
The bees
Did not swarm
The Russian Sage
This morning
Later when
The sun has
Warmed the air
They will come
Prompt: ghosts, exact, patches, gathered, worship, spill
unbidden, hillside, where, swarm, edges, sharp
19 comments:
nice...that first frost can be pretty amazing...seeing all the world glittering like a jewel...the bees will come...that frost wont last...enjoy both treasures, while you can...
Your heather is spectacular. I would love to see frost on the desert. Beautiful words, this morning, kiddo.
Seasonal transformations have a ghostly overlay of things unknown though seen. Lovely reflective poem.
Beautifully wordled, Annell. First frost has its own beauty, but is a harbinger of times to come.
it brought me back to those early desert mornings from long ago....
Those bees have lots to do before their winter break cuddled up together.
You know your bees. I love the first two lines. They sets the tone.
set the tone.
Enjoy how your words observe nature...nicely done.
Sweet!
Such wonderment with and at the world..i love you for that and share the sparkles x
I'm back. Thanks for trying to find me. Just letting you know that I am not from the Wordle link. You posted your poem at Poets United. My link to my poem is there.
I love this. I like how you connected the cooling temps to the swarming bees
some lovely recorded moments here... is this a response to this week's Sunday Whirl? - if so, you've incorporated the words wonderfully well
Worship, I think, is the only appropriate response to these unbidden, mysterious visitations.
Whirl of Disjointed Bits and Pieces
(Why the word verification? I don't remember its being here before.)
I hope that worked....
I put in my own comment, and clicked publish, the word verification didn't come up.
Beautiful imagery. And the bees will come...Bless'm.
Anna :o]
"Perhaps unbidden
Ghosts from the hillside
Gathered to create
Such a transformation"
Those are some beautiful lines. Loved your poem. Many thanks.
Greetings from London.
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