Frost Bite



“Frost on iris berries (11620851205)” by Ian Kirk from Broadstone, Dorset, UK

Allister knew

that the cloud cover
couldn’t show up
in time.

He placed his hands on the horizon
arm’s length,
and discovered
he only had two,
maybe three
hours of daylight.

It was already

His fingers ached
as breath spumed
in nebulae that
crystallized, fell:
Frost on the ground.

The fire was high,
but not high

It crackled, reported
and screamed; a billowing
and waving semaphore
of light and

Ahead the moon,
already eager, late
in the month,
was high in the dome;
Artemis taking aim,
seeming to close in on

“At least there will
be plenty of light tonight.”

He thought of a cold, stiff-legged
walk through
the moaning pines
and in that frigid
glare, gunmetal light
of the waxing moon.

Lifting, chopping, toting,

Feeding that insatiable
beast that
keeps him alive, here,
that cracks and
spews and sparks and

Hacking and splitting,
Allister’s hands made
mitts of callous
ice full of
pressure and

He fed the blaze.

FullSizeRender– Alex White, Copy Editor

Alex White lives in Florence, Alabama and is from Decatur, Alabama. A self-styled Buddha-survivalist, he enjoys the outdoors and is an avid angler and dachshund enthusiast. He maintains a poetry blog “Visions of the Afterworld” and copy edits for Garden Spices Magazine.

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