Glaze

The morning light of winter reveals gloves

And scarves of frosted tulle embroidered white

With sparkling tinseled jewels, quilted doves,

And silky furs.  A heavy gown of blight

Impressed upon innocent willow limbs,

Whose canopies are crystal palaces, bold

Designs which chime like chapel organ hymns,

Till the limbs snap and split from bitter cold.

As darkness draws its cloak across the sky,

Dead branches twinkle like soft fairy lights,

Elaborate pale frozen lungs that cry

For Persephone trapped in nether nights.

In hibernation, they await the fate

Of spring to rouse life from inertia’s gate.