Her Brush With Death

frosty foliage


The frost that ruptures arteries

and makes her foliage weep

is also master of the brush

that earns true glory’s keep,

for as he paints the crimson tide

with blood as palette’s edge,

his lines mark beauty’s truest form,

and trace salvation’s ledge.


Springtime Stirs


As canvas runs with melting snow,

Winter slinks to earth below;

evaporating paint expires

when Springtime stirs with warmer fires.