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?