by poetrydiary

Moon frost bright white
light holds cold lives
against new blue morning.

Still lives chances past
lived last spring summer
frozen know how futile.

Cold moon frost white
light touches earth
despite darkness hope.


An experimental poem (like them all!) inspired by the brightness of the moon and moonlight in the last week or so, and frosty mornings here in England at the moment. It’s cold and still, but somehow already warmer and less dark, more hopeful than December. I’m thinking of all the frozen plants in the first two verses. Maybe it’s a metaphor for human life too.