Frost in Key West
In the poet’s garden a gecko
suns at the edge of a deck
while taps on a typewriter echo
and neighborhood chickens peck.
The typist is busily drafting
verses invoking the flight
of snowflakes airily wafting
through a forest mantled in white.
Unlike the mutable lizard,
the Yankee, wherever he is,
has the hue and warmth of a blizzard,
a winter immutably his.
____; originally printed in The Formalist.
Reprinted by permission of the author.