FROST
Like none to be found.
Rare, beautiful lace
Lying on the ground.
In a crystal of mine
(A much finer place)
Is a lovely snow
Waiting for my mind to lace.
Both are sugared pathways
Winding through the trees.
Mine sprinkles sweetness
And floats me through the breeze.
So very sweet the frost;
Intricate and fine.
Setting in slowly
To numb my mind.
Brian Potter
About this Poem: I wrote this during my first years of teaching in the mid eighties when drugs were a much bigger problem for teenagers. A student of mine had a problem with cocaine and this was what came of that and winter in Wallace where the snow just piled up to over six feet. I chose the picture of a frosted tree in the lights at night. It shows a beauty and a darkness that I feel fits the tone of this poem in its dark lulling rhyme. It's copied and pasted from a drive and I can't easily fix the poor formatting...
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