It creeps upon you, very soft and subtle if you weren't paying attention to the calendar. But if you were, you either praise its return or dread its ending. But dread it you will! For the time it approaches you know the swimming in warn water will be something you will have either missed or will have to wait ten long months before any water is warm. Anywhere. September is the curse of a late season that should never wane into something even more dreaded.
But that's what it will be. Something that is timed and while the air is soft and warm it seems, and there's a sense of relaxation, don't fall for it! It is timing you and it is some warped stopwatch that ticks away like a pendulum.
Work is present. Hard work. For one thing, you know that all the trees want to fling all their leafy clothes on your yard, your walkways, everything. Like sand, it seeks to fill all spaces with no mercy. And it also foretells of a sort of sandy existence. That of a dry, barren desert! As at the end, that's what's coming. Nothing will be alive after it comes and goes. September sucks!
An Observation by Iggy 2019
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