If you are practical and you survive,
people will have to cope with your wear
as I have had to cope with beige.
I tried to make beige shine as sun,
I tried to give beige the role of noon
and alternate its rows with Indian
summer reds, the cocoa and auburn of puddles.
--Even a flag looks different in autumn.
I know a fence goes in and out of shadow:
white roses on navy, stake one place; blue
roses on frost, another. I want cats
to come over this, and that's when you feel
the wear of claws. I want vines
to bind over your slats, and that's
where you see rollmarks, curves pressed in
from head to toe. As long as you're autumn,
it's all right to fade. Color, evaporating,
burnishes the air, and then blows out
across the sea. I await the return of color
around the world. It will catch on you,
pickets, as lace trim does and chicken down.
And spaniel hair.--And one piece
purple for grape-leaves. I am making
autumn again. Mama, my children say,
how can you go on making so much nature?