Jack Frost Is Dead

Jack Frost is dead.
Just when the time was right
Just when the blanket was blinded
just when the coffee overturned the butter
just when day was traded for night.

The report is in from the foreign precincts:
Jack Frost is dead.
What was he looking for in the barrens.
Where was his shadow at two o'clock.
Who saw the body and lost the pulse.

The miser clock has wilted.
The clouds have worn to shreds.
Jack Frost is dead.
He spoke his last backwards.
Memory tore its collar.

In the tallons of the forest;
in the crystals of the moon;
out of weary understanding:
Jack Frost is dead.
Childless rests the head.

The limber lumber rests
after hearing the ancient news.
The patricians count the sounds.
Sunset carries the banner.
Jack Frost is dead.