Open to All Kenneth Pobo


Clinging to window frames,
burnt into doorknobs,
the dawn frost settles.

The weigela bush has gone
green red yellow
and black outlined

in silver. The japonica
tree with tarnished pots
in the empty fragrance.

These I saw flaking
with butterflies a month ago.
The frost cuts in,

a more dangerous beauty,
photosynthesis leaning
toward crystal, bright

ice pods cracking open.
Starlings at the feeder.
They will remain

all winter. I will be
sorry when robins
outnumber them in

spring and frost
disappears: the early blossom
on the japonica orange-red

in early heat,
clear and heavy,
strain of unyielding bud.
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