We walk
my son and I
on diamond glittering footpaths
gasp with cold and delight
this frosty winter’s morning
Precarious sheen of precious jewels
Wandering white,
bright
light
accentuating perfect forms –
fragile fronds
pearl encrusted pebbles
lonely leaves
from a forgotten season
Frozen puddles crunch under feet
His excited squeals
pierce
the peculiar early morning hush –
iced cars loom
like silent misshapen ghosts
and
white rooved houses
nestle
deceptively calm
occasional puffs of smoke
creeping
from iceblock chimneys
We walk,
up and down hills
he,
with crisp
and youthful enthusiasm
I,
with frost-bitten
time-learned wariness
slippery slide of
discovery
adventure
and treacherous conditions
He rushes,
headlong and headstrong
I cannot prepare him
only watch
as he tumbles
his pained surprise
at the iciness
the frosted edge
of something
so beautiful.
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