Friday, 11 September 2015

A Letter to September

Oh September. Our relationship with each other is rather a complicated one. You put my beloved trees to sleep and chill the winds oh so slightly,  you tell me that the summer I love so dearly, that I had hoped to be endless is finally at an end and that winter will surely come soon. You are the beautifully-lit window between changing phases of the seasons, a last lull of peace and freedom before I must return to the city of chimney pots. I resent you, because I fear what you bring but how can I not utterly love you? You paint the flora and fauna magnificent colours of burned oranges and golds as you cover them in their autumnal sleeping dust, you empty the beautiful sands and seas of the hubbub of the summer so that I and others who call Cornwall home can dance upon them and splash in the sea peacefully and appreciate the last warm days in quiet. You spread heather over the cliff tops and fill the skies with hazy silvery and mauve sunsets that only September can bring, and you fill the air with the loamy smell of earth and foliage. September, you mark a season of bonfires, sparklers and spiced cider so who am I to fight like a child and cry for summer when you wrap your arms so tenderly around my shoulders and give me the most beautiful few weeks of the year? September, you are perfect and peaceful, and despite the bittersweet sadness you bring to me, I am eternally yours. 
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