We woke to killing frost.
Begonias bowed their heads
beside the last bright vines,
green only yesterday.
At day’s end, darkness settles
around weeping blooms.
At the bottom of the hill,
a sturdy oak stands ready
to catch the moon as it falls.
Sherry Poff writes in and around Ooltewah, Tennessee. She holds an M.A. in writing from The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga and is a member of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. Her poems have appeared recently in Artemis Journal, and Stone Poetry Quarterly. She has work forthcoming in Number One and Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel.