Ornament Gold
Poem
By David Frost
Snow falls in swirls On transverse ridge
December gray
First winter storm pauses As I watch and wait
It is my fifty-sixth winter
Trees denuded, skeletal Seem numbed in the cold
Shaking with wind
Apple tree, Golden Delicious Holding fruit out of season
Globes like summer suns
Hanging by thin stems Ornaments from spectral limbs
Gifts of color in the gray Birds landing, eating Left-over summer
Quick brown beaks darting
A feast against the snow For flying things and me