Such is the case:
The first flowers of autumn,
the last of summer,
are asters, golden rod, and queen anne’s lace.
There is a changing of seasons
in your eyes, and all the reasons
are vague and disturbing—
I can see it in your face.
There’s a trace of a more rugged
blossom there—
a bloom that can bear
the coming chilly nights.
Permit me to stay by you,
for this disconcerting equinox
of mood. After the zinnias and phlox
are wilted, we’ll plant together
next years daffodils and hyacinths.
Sonny Rainshine
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weathering-2/
