Summer’s lease hath all too short a date, said Shakespeare, and ain’t that the truth.

The cicadas are still singing, but they won’t be for long. The days are getting shorter, the nights fall faster. The garden knows it too.

The last batch of bright zinnias displays its stand-up-straight colors, and the gold black-eyed Susans have only their black eyes left. The cosmos are taking their last bow in September.

You know the autumnal equinox is here when you start thirsting for apple cider rather than lemonade. When the outdoor pools close on Labor Day and soccer starts up again.

Some say autumn rhythm is their favorite time of year, with its zest, color and college football games. Fall foliage, anyone?

This year, the first official day of fall, Sept. 22, landed on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. Sundown saw in the year 5786, which is remarkable when you think about it.

That is a sweet celebration of life (l’chaim) followed closely by Yom Kippur, the most somber high holiday of the year. The day one fasts, prays and atones.

This fall, many in Israel are searching their souls over what their government is doing to Gaza.

This fall, many Americans, Jewish or not, are in anguish about what our government is doing to us, a day-by-day dismantling of our dear democracy.

Starting from President Donald Trump’s first day in office, Jan. 20, you could call it a blitzkrieg of our federal government by him and his men.

This September, he vows to wage a fresh campaign (“crackdown”) of vengeance against his critics and even a lawsuit against the nation’s leading newspaper, The New York Times.

And there are many. And he means it.

We don’t know what we’re in for, collectively, in losing freedoms and thousands of good-paying government jobs. Here in Washington, the nation’s capital, we hold our breath at whatever’s next.

Which reminds me: W.H. Auden’s great poem about how World War II broke out is titled “September 1, 1939.”

That was the day the German offensive campaign began, ending in the mass murder of millions, the Shoah. Then the United States dropped the first and second nuclear bombs on Japan.

Most thought the 21st century had to be better than the last. So far, not so much. Part of the president’s power is his volcanic temper and unpredictability. He inspires fear.

The Constitution was finished up in September 1787, laying down the cool rules of the three branches of government. Thanks, you guys, from we the people.

But wasn’t the legislative branch in there somewhere? What happened to Congress?

The august framers didn’t do a bad job, except for a fatal flaw. The Philadelphia convention left Southern slavery in place for future generations to solve.

We are an imperfect union, let’s face it, straight from the start. But weren’t we slowly, surely moving along the path of progress?

Beyond the first day of school or classes, September seems to bring shifts, come with new directions or turning points. The climate and the seasons literally change.

You can already feel the chill getting deeper on Capitol Hill, between the party leaders as they (may) veer toward a government shutdown at the end of September.

It’s well to see where we are now, on the cusp of fall. We have a president who delights in breaking the rules and conduct spelled out in the Constitution.

Trump’s not a Virginia gentleman, nor a New England intellectual, far from the tall man from Illinois. He loves to talk street, the first president to do so in public. He is not what they, the Founders, meant at all.

From walking the marble halls of Congress, this is in my reporter’s notebook. The muscles of the body politic have gone soft.

Democracy itself got flabby because we had it so good — most of all, in the ’90s peace and prosperity. We never had our way of life challenged like this before, from the top down. And so we don’t yet know how to defend it.

Meanwhile, we close the windows, one by one, as the sun sets.

Jamie Stiehm is a journalist and history buff. She can be reached at JamieStiehm.com.