Mexican church bells—
 
even in summer they sound
 
lonelier than frost.

 
 
 

Curled up on my bed,
 
my cat takes her final nap—
 
tonight, a hard frost.

 
 
 

deepening autumn—
 
sunflowers wasted by frost
 
and my cooling tea

 
 
 

Dead weeds in the ditch
 
array themselves in sunlight
 
and bright coats of frost.

 
 
 

Frost will lay them low,
 
but my brilliant marigolds
 
keep shining for now.

 
 
 

autumn solitude—
 
watching white chrysanthemums
 
shrug off last night’s frost

 
 
 

a glimpse of your face
 
in a fading photograph—
 
first frost of autumn

 
 
 

The tea in my cup
 
is turning cold too quickly—
 
first frost on the grass.

Coat

 
 
 

On day seventeen
 
every chair on the terrace
 
wears a coat of frost.

Frost

 
 
 

Third day of the year—
 
no one in the neighborhood
 
seems to mind the frost.