First Frost
Is on his way tonight
Winter wind’s grim reaper

Some can be saved
By being brought inside, some not
Triage in our tiny home

Geraniums overwinter, but not Impatiens
Their watery corpses will haunt us all for weeks
Cut them off

I go to do this deed
Cheating frost his victims
Fighting fire with fire, cold with cold, death with death

Some pots are not as pretty
Gotten gangly
Or turned pale and yellow

These are easy to dispatch
Or relatively so
As clippers cut soft tissues

I save the best for last
Thinking twice
Perhaps keep them a while?

But in the end
Decisions must be made
Sharpening the blade

One princess of a ***
Shining in her prime
Attracting butterflies of lime

She is the last
Am I up to this task?
I do not know

I hold the limb, but hesitate
Its not too late
To change my mind

Killing beauty
I fear we both shall bleed
Though only one be dead

Searching for some solace
I pray a prayer
Forgiveness sought from her