Cold

a poem by Charles Fisher, UK

The frost took hold.
The ground frosty cold
Coldest yet, the car felt:
From roof to bumper to bonnet,
Down to the four wheels: frost
Of thick white, glinting like glassware,
Through the morning sunshine fog

Frost language the roofs
In its entirety of frosting
No birds about
No language of chirps

Frost cover the hedges
That gives the hedge a stony look
Its green leaves shutdown,
No wonder the hedge frowns,
Its leafy rooms beneath,
The sounded cold

The frost crackle
Under the weighty sun rays,
If the sunshine,
Is telling the frost to behave

The shells of frost
Melting away from,
The world outside the frontier,
Of the warm home

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