An Empty Greenhouse

One step backward and the ghost
of winter embraces us although
it’s July and the greenhouse
has coughed up its riot of annuals.
The chill rumples our senses.

Petunias, sweet peas, alyssum,
zinnia, lantana, nasturtiums
have left pollen prints everywhere.
Their absence makes a crime scene,
but who can we blame for selling

flowers too vivid to last long?
The ghost of winter suggests
that a new thought of planting
looms a few months ahead of us,
repopulating the greenhouse

with seedlings rich with ambition.
The winter ghost is perennial
although it droops in summer heat
and doesn’t respond to watering.
We step forward and for a moment

free ourselves of the haunting.
But we like being reminded
that the seasons lean on each other
like old men swapping anecdotes,
eager to hear something new.

William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. His most recent book of poetry is No Vacancy) (2025). He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell’s Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals.