september has a rolling ring, it builds, preparing for what’s next.
if sung in operatic, it leaves you feeling rocked by the vibration.
if whispered, it’s sibilant echo hangs in the air, not ready to leave.
if harshly accentuated, its syllables split, it marches on, the tempo refusing to fall with the season.
maybe you were rocked by the month, ready for it to end. maybe you’d prefer it hang around longer, stretch out the pleasant into what’s next. or maybe you need the steady march to keep up the rhythm of day to day to day.
the month is yours, to finish as you wish. say it how you like, and say it loud. take ownership of these days, 30, 31, 28. there are surprises in the space between calendar sheets.