The First Frost by Judith K. Witherow
Hold back, Hold back I say. Be slow to trample over gardens green and yielding awesome bounty without ceasing. Cloak still in warmth the fragrant rose and mighty sunflower bent ground-low with swollen seed. And cast no shadow on the leaf that when removed will crazy-quilt its summer sheen. Nor toe dance across the mountaintop swirling and whirling leaving winter in your wake. Hold back, Hold back I say.
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