Autumn is here. How about a poem?

These are the last days of summer.  Autumnal equinox is only a few days away: Sep 22nd, at 11:09 PM EDT.

And then? As the days become shorter than the nights,

We head indoors.
  Go to classes.
    Wonder at the changing colors on trees.
      Complain about the leaves on the ground.
        Start using the ovens.
          Yell at football players on the TV screen.  ...

To commemorate this, I headed to my favorite source for poems, which is where I came across this beauty:

Autumn Movement
by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things
      come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,
      not one lasts.