THE COW BARN’S FROSTED WINDOW PANES
soft in the night he must have come
to paint the panes one by one
the portraits of feathers,rivers and valleys.
to touch and carve with such graceful skill
surely an artist perched on the sill.
“Jack Frost was here,” my father said.
“See what he has done.
taking his knife he captured some
cold scrapings from the masterwork.
his mark is harsh and deeply drawn
just an egg shaped window
unmasking blush of early morn.
Mary Kellogg 2006
Wow, beautiful poem. I am right there with them watching this sweet moment.