Prelude to the Frost By Tiffany Renee Harmon

Prelude to the Frost

Winter is not coming.
Within our embrace, I see only tulips.
I feel only the warmth of your skin
and the rough stubble on your jaw
as it brushes against my cheek.
Your blend of sweat and aftershave
transport me to a peaceful place
where we recline inside the woods
intertwined among the branches.

Winter can’t be coming.
The brisk wind was unexpected
but I’ll consider it a gentle caress instead
of the harbinger it was meant to be.
The violets are looking a bit pale.
I think I forgot to water them,
but I’m sure we’ll be just fine
as long as I hold on tight without
smothering the morning glory vines.

Winter won’t be coming.
Not as  long as we hold our heads
under the pond’s murky depths
as the crickets chirp and the robin’s sing
and the toads croak a misguided lullaby.
The last time we came up for air
I thought I saw a snowflake but
you wrapped your arms around my waist
and I became distracted once again.

Now as we wander through the sunflowers 
I begin to wonder what this means .
Is the fortress of our affection lasting
or is our spring a dream?

Tiffany Renee Harmon is a poet and artist based out of Cincinnati, OH. She has an MFA from Lindenwood University, and her work has appeared in a variety of publications, including Poetry Quarterly, Page&Spine, and Third Wednesday. Learn more about her at www.tiffanyreneeharmon.com.

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