the bird-bath freezes
black in the bright day, sealing
depths no wing can plumb
Tag: cold
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Frost makes rainbows
Of the few, the bright — stars, strewn
In a full moon sky -
Pink feathered cloud —
Roof for pink galahs, their cries
Sharp as the sharp cold. -
Fennel, woodsmoke, frost
Scent the still, murmuring air
This moonless night -
Beneath blue glass,
Skinks and insects scramble
To beat the frost -
Heat mirages
Shimmered bright and brief, hiding
The cold truth -
The cold comes first
To far hills. Fog fading
Trees, grass, into rain -
Between bright sky and
Lawn, lit a whole spectrum's green
The cold still hides -
Galahs cut a dead sky
Sun, rain, rainbows: scrubbed out
By a chill north wind
Jenkins Rising 