Around Thanksgiving

Pure gold, they said in her praise: So I walk my autumn ways, Around me a golden haze

From the ground, in leaves, in air— Oh, everywhere, everywhere!— To save, to spend, and to share.

By the door, with evening light, Westering, lingering late Over lane and lawn and lot

The leaves of the lilac hold The shape of the heart, pure gold, As if I need to be told,

As if I need reminding, Toward chill November's ending, Of warmth and love abounding.