Surprise

frosty-fence

frost feeds on fear

freezes future fortunes

dishes up death on a silver platter

wouldn’t it be shocked to know

when we are flash-frozen

we grow glorious?

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The Melting

sunset ice

You came to me like a song,

Hushed, on the wings of a warm wind;

The glare hurt my eyes

And I looked away,

Afraid to breathe,

Afraid to speak,

Lest your beauty break the ice

That masqueraded as my backbone.

But Love, determined Spring,

Wooed.

Waited.

Won.

Great Expectations

foliage

 

The seeds of Great Expectations rooted deep,

but she tasted their fruits not in the fair soil of trinkets

fashioned from sturdy stems,

cabinetry of beauty and elegance

displaying the wares of Kings,

nor in the expression of the printed page,

pouring forth speech from pulpy loins.

Less still the warmth of a billion fires,

songs of a billion kettles

as her fuel gave Man comfort from the endless darkness.

It came, not in the power and might

of the straight-rimmed arrow’s shaft

or the machinations of the torture room,

but in the beautiful irony of Life –

the abandonment of her burdens,

 bouquet of ultimate surrender.

Here, where she came to terms with her brokenness,

her truest beauty harvested

Great Expectations.