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Frost
Posted by Laura, Jan 8, 2010. 536 views. ID = 3091
This post was written in 2 minutes.
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The world's greatest art is not painted by hand,
nor purchased at any exorbitant cost,
but is etched so mysteriously in the dark
by the intricate crystals of newly-formed frost.
Though these limitless patterns are fragile and cold,
most unselfishly show for an audience of one,
and exhibit such art with no thoughts of return,
until ice scrapers slash them, and then they are gone.
And if this is disheartening, that such beauty dies,
and seems cause to bemoan our own mortality,
we should rather find comfort in knowing that He
who created frost flowers, loves us much more than these.
Copyright 2010 Laura. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
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Comments
lostcerebellum
Jan 9, 2010 | Nice thoughts. Now I’m going to have to think about this poem when I see one of those beautiful early morning displays.
~Posted by lostcerebellum, Jan 9, 2010 |
Laura
Jan 9, 2010 | Thanks :-) I always feel bad in the morning because I'm often in such a hurry that I don't even stop to marvel at something so small before scraping it off my windshield- but it really is amazingly designed!
~Posted by Laura, Jan 9, 2010 |
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