First Freeze

And so begins the freeze-dance—

hauling potted flowers into the garage

at dusk to prevent their sudden expiration,

then back outside in the morning

so that they don’t miss their chance

to bask in the dwindling hours of sun—

that will continue until three frosts

in a row, when the dance will take a martial

turn, and I will finally admit defeat,

surrendering to winter’s steady advance,

the killing cold, inevitable death.


Copyright 2014

T. Allen Culpepper



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