Dec. 30: Hoarfrost

 Hoarfrost is one of those words that sounds dirty. If I was in junior high, I would probably joke that hoarfrost is a prostitute working in January. But I am not in junior high. I would not find that joke funny now. I don't know why I just made it but I did.

Here is what a CBC expert said about hoarfrost:

"Hoarfrost forms under clear skies, clear and cold. Any moisture that's in the air goes from the gaseous state, meaning there is water vapour in the air and you can't see it. It skips that liquid phase and it goes right into solids. So it goes from a gas to a solid, it forms right onto the tree. There is no melting in between."

Here is a picture of hoarfrost. I took in North Glengarry on February 17, 2016:

 I now feel obligated to write a poem about hoarfrost. Here are some reasons why I feel this way:

1. The person who gave me this title, Scott Alderson, is a poet.

2. Hoarfrost has the same last name as Robert Frost, who was a poet.

3. Hoarfrost occurs in nature and poets write about nature a lot.

The surgeon general warns you that the poem that follows will suck large:

-

Upon this trail I walk and walk

it is so cold I can't feel my 

feet in my sock.

I've been out here so long,

I must be lost.

But, aye, what's this,

hoarfrost, hoarfrost.

 

The hoarfrost clings tight to this tree

like blankets cling to the smell of pee.

Oh frozen snow, like old man beard

upon that tree, you look so weird.

 

Hoarfrost hoarfrost

you winter treat

with fungi look

and frozen feet.

To describe you,

I am at a loss

'Tis like Jack Frost

had sex with moss.

 

Oh great hoarfrost,

king of the wood

at Christmastime

you're twice as good.

You blanket all

in icy breath

and make Bing Crosby

smile in death.

Hoarfrost hoarfrost

you don't make me frown

unlike poets

who won't use pronouns.

What a pretty thing 

you are

but please stay off

my brand new car.