Jack Frost’s Storm
by Hugh A Tague
A white birch bows to Jack’s command
laden with ice upon each limb and branch
all of Summer’s color, his magic blanched
silent, it’s burden held within a frozen trance
Nearby an old willow stands up straight
once flowing branches completely encased
Her limbs pulled to the ground from the weight
Summer sleeps under a canopy of crystal drapes.
The landscape has become unknown
locked in place with tools of ice and snow
a tranquil wonderland only he could sow
Jack Frost’s Storm, a spectacle to behold.