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September is a month of false modesty and cooling campfires. The finish-line ribbon of August 31st has been broken by the straining chests of sprinters running headlong into damp leaves. Colds spread through offices, started by people who’ve forgotten to dress appropriately. Break time is over for teachers and students. Office workers know that soon, staying late at the office will mean going home in the dark.
If summer is a vacation to Disneyland, September is the drive back. Five years old in the back of your parent’s car, sad that it’s over but with a head full of great memories. Your inner child goes to sleep, safe in the knowledge that it’s headed home but tired from all the fun.
Dig through the photographs. September is a mirror. A return to planning. The first few steps of the voyage Back In. Still glowing from July’s kisses but not yet fattened by Christmas.
September is the rowboat that takes the summer away to the rocky shores of Hades for the pomegranate-seed months of gratitude, remembrance days, Gift-giving gluttony, resolutions, valentine’s day pledges, and the bareback beginnings of October babies.
An army of Virgos have birthdays, looking forward to a return to order. They are the keepers of the gates from warm to cold. They know that organization is the only way to survive the ice.
September starts with 7. It was the seventh month back when there were only ten. It’s like we kept the numeric names of the home stretch out of sheer exhaustion. The bears inside all of us go to sleep.
September tucks us in.
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If summer is a vacation to Disneyland, September is the drive back. Five years old in the back of your parent’s car, sad that it’s over but with a head full of great memories. Your inner child goes to sleep, safe in the knowledge that it’s headed home but tired from all the fun.
Dig through the photographs. September is a mirror. A return to planning. The first few steps of the voyage Back In. Still glowing from July’s kisses but not yet fattened by Christmas.
September is the rowboat that takes the summer away to the rocky shores of Hades for the pomegranate-seed months of gratitude, remembrance days, Gift-giving gluttony, resolutions, valentine’s day pledges, and the bareback beginnings of October babies.
An army of Virgos have birthdays, looking forward to a return to order. They are the keepers of the gates from warm to cold. They know that organization is the only way to survive the ice.
September starts with 7. It was the seventh month back when there were only ten. It’s like we kept the numeric names of the home stretch out of sheer exhaustion. The bears inside all of us go to sleep.
September tucks us in.
tags