On the Furtherance of my Thoughts on Joy

I do not often post this frequently, but last night I wrote a post on joy, the latter portion of which was concerned with that joy which I found in beholding the fresh morning frost. What I did not anticipate while writing that blog post is that a few short hours later, I would then write a poem pertaining to this very theme. Had I but known, I could have added this poem to it. However, I shall simply have to increase the number of my blog posts by adding this today.

Frost

I passed the frost this morning
It was leaving as I was coming
Our greeting was friendly
As his smile met mine
His handshake was as firm as ever
And left my hand chilled
With stiffness in the joints.
How I had missed him
I'm always glad to see him round
My gentle friend
Heading south this time of year
Painting as he goes
The most skilled of painters is he
Applying his brush
To every leaf
His work has always been my favourite.
Perhaps another day
We'll spend more time together
My friend, the frost, and I.

It was only after rewriting this in blog form that I realized it could be misconstrued by an overly analytical person who knows of my love for Robert Frost. Huh. Well, as much as I enjoy the work of that brilliant man, this poem does not in any way pertain to him. There is only personification in this poem. Don't look for symbolism and such. At least in this poem...