Crystals to Color the Rest of My Day Even the tiniest branch is a suncathcer with frost on its bark. Every unmowed weed glories in its frozen dew slicker this morning. I slow my car. Can I absorb this light, too? This scene is not gray winter, it's alive making bare branches and fallow field seem full even in dead of winter.
Margaret A. Dukes's Questions:
1. How should I do the stanzas and line breaks?
2. What do you think about the title?