Autumn

They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia,

Opulent, flaunting.

Round gold Flung out of a pale green stalk.

Round, ripe gold Of maturity,

Meticulously frilled and flaming,

A fire-ball of proclamation:

Fecundity decked in staring yellow For all the world to see.

They brought a quilled, yellow dahlia,

To me who am barren Shall I send it to you,

You who have taken with you All I once possessed?