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.

 

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Winter Woodworker

art.jpg

Bevelled edges,

meadow’s crown moulding,

intricate detailing in Artisan’s craft;

¬†woodworker’s tools sit silent,

not daring to break the

 sound barrier.