frost perched on washing line whispers to arms

and morse code settles and braille is body's feel,

sometimes read clearly, it winks to blood and will flow

up where thoughts abide. it feeds praying mantis and dragonfly

hair is a mess but flying things love it. also double taking looks

flit through strands, this way and that. there is white moon too

that brothers watch and it calls to arms all that are weak

embrace its cold and hold it to this chest, it cools the hot heart.

it cools the hot heart that burns for love's sake that burns under the white moon

that burns for splinter and scrap (all is smoke and mirror)

that burns for words spoken and not

burn on, heart, burn on.

frost will perch once more. spry. all welcome. all cool and welcome.

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