Please don’t gallop, Autumn,
           let spring have a longer turn this year
                     and summer too. Store up your snow.

Let little leaves stave off trampling,
           and sky, let it hold out in the bottom
                     of puddles disturbed by small feet.

How many springs and summers are left
           for me? Be generous, Autumn, stay away
                     while green plumes of scallions pierce

our salads and every day poppies’ flush
           burns in babies’ cheeks. Easier now
                     to do no wrong, to love one another.

Ah long days with no sign of you!
           Long days like promised happiness
                     and eternal life, no threat of hailstorms

hammering needles in anything living.
           Better for me to set off as the last robin calls
                     while squirrels are still racing to bury

winter treats among flowers. I’ll go, then,
           following the wind in the trees or lovers
                     as they rise from cold growing in the grasses.