Spring Frost

Spring frost 1919 Elioth Gruner

Dawn air is brittle with cold

steam drifts out with each breath

the body is reluctant to rise

but rise it must

 

Poke the coals of the fire,

kindling broken and laid

catch and flame

fill the kettle

 

Hat, coat, gloves, boots

Time to break into the day

the door shrieks like his bones

as it is opened

fragile light seeps in

 

Grass crackles with each step

frozen with the night’s frost

 

trees throw long shadows

as do the cows

up at the gate

waiting to be milked

 

and so it goes

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