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frost property  (  ytreporp storf  )

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a yawn of fog & out the yard

the daze is dark, the moon is starred

as mountaineers

we face the blear

the puddles - rocks, the river's hard


the grass is stone - a crunch is heard

a groan of bone but not a bird

is hymning in

this misted dim

us idiots are undeterred


we slug a trudge - the dog & me

as winters limbs are doddery

when penguins prance

& mammoths dance

a rummage in frost property


as poets squawk of summer's gold

as circles churn - this song is old

a frozen roam

& then back home

the kettle calls - it's fuckin' cold

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