"Come," said the Wind to the Leaves one day.
"Come over the meadow and we will play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold.
For summer is gone and the days grow cold."
You may say autumn, but the name is Fall. I was born in fall, so I should know.
“The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease." Shakespeare.
See? Call it Autumn and I have no idea what you're talking about.