4 December – First frost

The first frost is soft,
a subtle hint of glint
on glistening gables
that catches the morning light.
But out in the fields there’s more to find,
hidden here and there on the ground,
as if Jack’s little sister
has been practising her art
like a precocious apprentice;
running odd blades of grass
through her icy fingers
and learning to lace a leaf
with sparkling glitter thread.
I smile at these small sugared touches,
appreciating their delicate shine
and their tiny perfect prefiguring
of the hoar frosts that will follow in time.