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 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.
Carl Sandburg
