Jack Frost
by Helen Bayley Davis

Someone painted pictures on my
Windowpane last night —
Willow trees with trailing boughs
And flowers, frosty white,

And lovely crystal butterflies;
But when the morning sun
Touched them with its golden beams,
They vanished one by one.

I don’t know what it is about mornings like this that make me wish I was a poet but alas, I am not so I borrowed one from the world wide internet.  It’s so pretty outside right now.

Happy New Year everyone!