stormy weather

on a black background, a side view of a circle of ice looking rather like a crown with a smooth lower edge and a jagged top like a jewelled crown. There are wisps of brown fren embedded in the ice
crown jewel
Hordes of glittered ball gowns stream
urgently through my garden,
twirl and melt among diamonds
cascaded from the necks of
fairytale queens; princesses
kissing frogs or fleeing midnight
mirrors weeping into dark
puddles of flash-flooded earth.
And the frenzy fades, smiles on
gentle warmth, hints and whispers
of music and dancing far
from the ice court; with colours
blazing promises of golden days
pollen crowns and nectar toasts;
awakening a rage of
stamping feet and glass slippers
shatt’ring their fury in white
shards that bite into exposed
flesh and bone, unprotected
by innocence; abandoned and
vulnerable by virtue
of age and experience.