Crisp white morning. Frost coats the bushes,
the trees. Crunchy grass under foot.
The stars fade into the pale sky while the sun
creeps up over the rooftops. Later blue will
erupt as the beams warm the air. Robin Redbreast
and Master Greentit challenge each other to a crust
in front of the French windows. The chime is still
on the roof beam over the terrace, immobile.
Intricate patterns snake up the gate, ephemeral art
swept by the midday thaw. Droplets glisten on
the leaves of the evergreens. The mercury edges up
and stops, numb.
At teatime the light has ebbed away and the frost
sneaks back over the garden