Rapids by A. R. Ammons

Fall's leaves are redder than
spring's flowers, have no pollen, 
and also sometimes fly, as the wind 
schools them out or down in shoals 
or droves: though I 
have not been here long, I can 
look up at the sky at night and tell 
how things are likely to go for 
the next hundred million years: 
the universe will probably not find 
a way to vanish nor I 
in all that time reappear.