frost

Frost. 

The whisper of spring on the curtails of winter. 

Not snow. Not dew. 

Frost. 

The welcome of a morning, the goodbye of a chill night. 

Not dark. Not light. 

Frost. 

P.S. Thanks to Adelaide's hand for being a model. Such fingernails. 

and the light.

the light is so strange.

Bright.

Burning. 

and then it's gone. 

and you realize it is the most beautiful thing, 

as it tips over the horizon

Soft. 

bursting at the seams with beautiful secrets.

with beautiful peace. 

you are the only one in a world of millions 

who is seeing this right now

Welcoming gold. 

brazen purple. 

shy orange.

and the sun tips up 

over the horizon

and the sun slides down

behind the mountain

and you smile. 

Dally