That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.
I know a lot of people in Phoenix, so I've had some great nights there. It's always hot, too, so it's just a nice to be outside in the evening.