Wednesday, January 14, 2009



Now is the unloosening,
The chill grip
That snaps the chord,
Silent ministry of ice.

From the cadence of the clutch,
Shoulder to shoulder and swelling to full blush,
Unstrung at that trice.
Bitter ministry of ice.

Through scolding sun,
The mushroomy smell of rain,
Even wind's terrifying embrace.
Oh, mysterious ministries of ice!


GMG said...

Hi Ted! Another set of great shots! Truly artistic!! And the black background makes it even prettier!!
Hope you have a great week-end!

Ted Roth said...

Thank you. The weather has suddenly turned even colder and so I'm staying by the fire until the next real weather event moves through. Such are the joys and limitations of being a tourist in my own back yard.