A Close Scrape  

In the winter afternoon sunlight she is radiant
Her magnificent charm beguiles my sensibilities
The countryside is pleased at her arrival
For truly she paints the world with her touch
I think of diamonds and delicate glass baubles
Ornate with frosted patterns of wonderland scenes,
Upon which sunrays swoon in scintillating movements

By evening her appearance has taken on even more color
As festive lights season her face giving her a special glow!
Again I am drawn towards her - my eyes drink in her
Staggering natural beauty… I can't help but fall for her -
I am drunk with passion!
I start to write sonnets,
Sing songs,
Light candles,
Drink wine!

In the morning - I awake to find her close at hand
She is dazzling still as the reaching fingers of dawn
Rise to caress her pale cheek-
Something about this morning though is colder…
A chill penetrates my being- I shiver…
With places to go I bid her a kind farewell…
She changes her demeanor…

As I step outside to start my car
I notice the trees, lacquered in white
I think of Robert Frost's "Birches"…

Then, I see she is there to prevent a quick escape!
I am drawn back to cold reality.
She clings to me!
I cannot escape from her grasp!
She has me…I try to break free. I am frantic!
Finally, with ice scraper firmly in hand
I free my windshield of her frigid touch
And hide my eyes from her icy stare…

She's beautiful at best when viewed from afar
But hoar frost's a bitch to scrape off your car!

© 2007 Tim Cusack