Devil-faced leaf

Now class, what time of year is it?
No, Kirri, we don't call it "Fall" here, do we, Darling?
That's right, Alfie, it's Autumn!
And so, I would like you to each write a little poem about what Autumn means to you - there's lots to write about - leaves and bonfires and lovely, windy days that make the leaves scurry about and blow the smoke from the bonfire into Daddy's face so that he says Bad Words.
What's that, Manhattan? No, it doesn't have to rhyme unless you want it to...