He knew the fragility of frozen grass
Cells thin as a skin of glass
when trod upon, they break
shards of wet ice crushed into green Slurpies
Not good for lawns
My puppy’s paws left mitten-size tracks
dark green patches on white
Beside her paw-spotted trail, my angel
spread green wings and skirt
I couldn’t wait for snow
That was when he said “Don’t walk on frost”
That was a long time ago
This morning’s dawn woke to me walking the paths
Following, my old dog chose the frosted grass
No mitten marks from her
just two green trails – silhouettes on white
parallel stories of arthritic joints
dragging her feet like an old woman
Crystal-dusted shrubs frosted with fog
caught my attention
I stopped
Gradually my shadow appeared
long and slippery
and buttery heat stroked my back
as the faceted ice began to dance
for the sun
glittering splintered rainbows
until spent
Crystals died in the warmth of morning
Just like him
Parallel trails
mitten-paw tracks
green angels and memories
wait upon patience
for winter’s next
walking on frost
4 Thursday Poets Rally week 36
And
One Shot Wednesday
Photo courtesy of Google Images: http://footprintsofabackpacker.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/P1020315.jpg
