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Frostbite
June 12, 2024
The cold winter never changes the
essence of my breath turning to frost.
The snow never fails when it performs
a storm of white dust with it's
beauty of cold and comfort of ministry.
The cold is unhelped
from the snow. Rather it's by
the breeze of any
swift second of wind
that passes through the
cold and red face of mine.
The owls shrivel up as if they’re still little owlets;
always cold and urgent to cry.
When the cold winter came,
the winds always stay loud.
Poem Reference: Frost At Midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
© Anonymous
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This piece was a project that we did in class. We found a poem that caught our attention and we created a poem where the last word of each line is the poem we were referencing was actually reciting the poem.