It's Spring in my neck of the woods, but Autumn has arrived in the US, so here's an apt little poem for you:

"Autumn Day"

Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.

—Rainer Maria Rilke (1902), translated from German by Stephen Mitchell

CHEERY. It's the poem you hear on the radio, in the opening scenes of Synecdoche, New York. Thanks to Dave for passing it along! (Much better than the poem I was going to post - a heart-rending ode to a man residing in Nantucket.)