And welcome to September.
How is yours? I've had two September experiences so far. Both in one day. I left Kent, UK yesterday which was a surprisingly summery 20 degrees and a welcome comparison to the wet and cold August. The change in the weather made me want to stay longer but the flight was booked and we took off from London City Airport, flew east along the Thames and out over the southernmost part of the North Sea.
1 hour and 50 minutes later we landed at Nice and drove to Antibes where it was 32 degrees and sunny, but so humid. This morning I couldn't tell where the wet quilt cover ended and I began as I struggled to lift it over the washing line.
All that's left now are a few, small late ripeners. September is too late for them. I missed their best time.
Here's a poem called 'September' by Linda Pastan, a poet I've previously introduced on AppleHouse Poetry
it rained in my sleep
and in the morning the fields were wet
I dreamed of artillery
of the thunder of horses
in the morning the fields were strewn
with twigs and leaves
as if after a battle
or a sudden journey
I went to sleep in the summer
I dreamed of rain
in the morning the fields were wet
and it was autumn
from Carnival Evening: New and Selected Poems 1968-1998
W.W. Norton & Company, 2009
Buy from The Book Depository
September is our ninth month but takes its name from 'septem'/seven as it was the seventh month in the Roman calendar.
We tend to associate September with autumn but in the Southern hemisphere it's the beginning of spring.
September was always a mark of going back to school. More recently it reminds me of 9/11 and the attack on the Twin Towers.
Write about September, or the shift from one month to another. Or dreaming. Or waking up. But anchor your poem to a particular time of year.