Magic in Movement

Poem of the day.

Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

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              Magic In Movement 

Bare trees glitter— glued 
on each branch. Jack Frost’s 
work no one can match.
A sharp chill pricks 
my nose. Mittens hug
my fingers, wool socks 
cushion my toes. 
A sheet of ice glistens along
the water. Joy fills my heart—
here comes my daughter. 
Skipping along the path with 
a smile on her face. Magic in
movement, the outdoors— 
we embrace.