Coffee: Pike Place, Apartment Lounge Blend; like the last day of grade-school, something to wake up for that’s a little disappointing once it’s gone
September sounds better when you say it: “I can’t believe it’s September already!” None of us can, but here it is.
There’s only two months that change the temperature so quick you notice, and March is always forgotten like a junior prom so September is what we pay attention to. Summer’s done and we’re gone off to write in our journals all the tallies we took through the year. We’re out of time to change anything. The rest is left for telling stories.
I smelled new wood on an old trail. They re-boarded the bridges on the Cary Greenway. You’re out in the forest full of lively trees and it’s all taken over by something stripped down dead. The boards were bright yellow, and they’d only replaced half of them so the bridge was a zebra. Shaved down hearts of pine.
A hurricane’s ripping up boards in the Bahamas. Brittle houses, because everything a human hand makes is brittle. There’s pictures popping up of pink siding flown over palm trees, or flooded roads. No bodies because that’s sadness, and not the kind that sells. Also, because who has time to take an official count when a storm’s raging? But there will be bodies, lifeless, washed off, clean like blue saltwater and none the better for it. In the tropics, there’s no meaning to ‘September’ – seasons don’t spin around the belt. But not knowing the ghost won’t stop it from haunting you.
With some effort, better luck to us next year.
Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller
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Do you remember the 21st night of September?Earth, Wind & Fire, September
Love was changin’ the minds of pretenders
While chasin’ the clouds away
Our hearts were ringin’ in the key that our souls were singin’
As we danced in the night, remember
How the stars stole the night away, oh yeah