Since today is the first official day of Autumn, I thought Carl Sandburg's poem would be perfect.
Autumn Movement
Autumn Movement
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 winds
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 things go,
not one lasts.
Carl Sandburg , 1878 -
1967
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