Frozen
Feather
Boa
Of
Cloud
Rests
On
The
Mountain
Crest,
And
Shrugs
Along
To
The
Breast
Of
Cluttered
Hills
In
A
Tumble
Of
Icy
Chills.
Twenty
Degrees
Here,
But
Up
There
I Fear
My
Blood
Would
Freeze
And
Down
I’d
Fall,
To
Become
A
Thoroughly
Frosty
Snowball.