Frost Whispering

There are many things that I love about autumn: the kaleidoscope of ruby, amber and citrine foliage; the pungent smell of undergrowth and damp soil; mysterious mist and fog; and the first early morning frost sketching cobwebs and snail trails with its silver touch.

Fresh frost is silent until I listen closer – and hear it whispering poetry on the footpath, on branch and leaf, in the pictures it leaves on windows. Frost makes footsteps ring, leaves crunch, soil creak, and my skin and nose sting.

harvesting poems
written with hoary fingers
a whisper of rime

Kim M. Russell, 2017

Unexpected Frost

My response to dVerse Poets Pub Haibun Monday : Shimo no koe—First Frost 

Victoria is our host and asks us to listen to the breahless voice of Autumn’s first frost, which she says, on a quiet windless night, can be heard when the earth and air whisper ‘shin shin’.  

For today’s Haibun, Victoria wants us to dig into our memories or go outside to conjure up a poem related to first frost—shimo no koe: it could be about the withering of the garden, the anticipation of the work of harvesting and clearing out the yard in preparation for winter, the scent of earthy loam and mouldering leaves, the crisp cool air that fills our lungs on an early morning walk or the persistence of that sheltered rose bush that continues to delight us with her blooms.

49 thoughts on “Frost Whispering

  1. Good morning, Kim; loved your poetic profile of autumn (love citrine) & your frost is a lot less angry than mine; our snow is on the mountains, not yet in the yard–it will be there soon enough though. We poets seem to find poetry & song everywhere we look & roam.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Good morning, Glenn! You have such extreme nature and mountains! I’ll look your area up on the Internet – what’s its name? I know I’ll never go there, so it’s great to be able to check it out in cyberspace.


  2. Autumn is my favourite time of year, although I do long for the kind that Keats described, the English season, very unlike my African one. Your poem reminds me of the way mood and atmosphere can attach to such days.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I am not fond of the cold and am so glad I have moved far away from the frosts of my childhood. But you make them sound sweet and enticing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Wonderfully imagistic! A fine commemoration of Autumn. I love this line: “Fresh frost is silent until I listen closer – and hear it whispering poetry on the footpath, on branch and leaf, in the pictures it leaves on windows.” Wonderfully done!

    Liked by 1 person

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