frost

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Fire and IceSome say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I__e tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice.

As different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.

Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath__ vapor.In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . .But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.

Life is very tough and fragile at the same time, it never backs down or surrenders, but will break open to reveal its beauty and ugliness. As a evening primrose that blooms in the flooding moonlight, just before being trampled upon underfoot by the four-legged frost of the night.

But give thanks, at least, that you still have Frost's poems; and when you feel the need of solitude, retreat to the companionship of moon, water, hills and trees. Retreat, he reminds us, should not be confused with escape. And take these poems along for good luck!