They come from the Himalayas,

From the Russian Steppes,

The Norwegian pine forests ……. running, running, running.

Faster than sound,

Colder than glass,

Harder than rock,

Over the pond

Onto the steps,

Up to the windows,

To bush, twig and grass.

The garden quivers,

Clamps the bud to bark,

The insect to leaf ….. leaf glues tight to leaf, to leaf, to grief.

Ponds pull their icy shutters over,

Send the newts and fish

To the depths …. they’re here!

Frost strikes: sucks the life

From shoot and root,

Spears the branch

With crystal daggers.

Runs amok with pointed feet

And sharp white arrows,

Like Atilla the Hun …… they smother, colour, cover.

The morning curtains swish,

And kids warm noses

Steam the windows.

The brown and black of winter

Now silver and grey ..….daggers in the day.

Outside, the grass is brittle as toast,

The seed heads frozen.

The starving bird pierced through songless chest.

Silent, they wait to ambush your fingers,

Slip icy sheets from under your feet.

Pull tears from your eyes... icy cries under frosty skies.

Only in sun

Will they slip, slip, slip,

Drip away.

Watch Out!  Jack Frost’s army’s about!