Glints in a Winter Skyscape
Frost has cracked the sky,
the air scintillates,
fragments and splinters of light
shred through layers
of any a softer luminescence.
Blue and white shrapnel
bounce off a shattered vibrancy.
A few autumnal leaf's slow burn,
they are last embers, a crumbling rust
whittles at thinning stems.
Singularly, they fall
sparking into invisibility.
This morning the air is not broken,
it is a fanfare of ice-pierced brightness.
it's a stained-glass window
as still, and as perfect
as a prism set within
a dragon's gleaming eye.
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