It frosted last night.
Frost brings several different emotions:
'Oh no, everything in the garden will be dead.'
'Brrrr. It looks so cold.'
'Dang, now I'll have to scrape the windshield.'
The first emotion of my God-besotted soul is:
Sparkles in the dead flowers.
Its scent is sharp in the cold.
Taste like minty popsicles.
Pin oak leaves.
Sometimes you have to look to see God's delicate touch,
Look real close.