Monday, September 1, 2008


Oh, September. The dog days of summer are gone (what on earth does that mean, anyway? Why thank you, Mr. Google for this information) and the brutal routines of school mornings are back. The temps are still a bit too warm for comfort and going all day without a nap is killer.

This September is full of newness for our family. Meg and Nic are in a new school, which is quite a distance away. In order to save money, they ride with a teacher. He has to be there early, so on the most brutal days, they have to get up at 6:30 and leave by 7:15.

It’s full of growing-up kids. Meg is going to Middle School camp with her class tomorrow and won’t be home until Thursday. She’s been helping me pack school lunches, something we’ve never had to do. Today we picked up her new phone (for emergencies, not gabbing with friends) so that eventually she and Nic can take the metro without us but still be able to get help if they need it.

September has more limbo in it than normal for me this year. If I get the school job I am hoping for, I have most of September to get my life together. If I don’t, I probably need to start looking for something else. I’d be really happy to know, one way or another.

I’m looking forward to the part of September that brings crisp air and cool nights.

September loosens
its sweaty grip
on summer
out of necessity.
Bright emerald leaves
pale with sometime dew.
The trees
begin to languish in confusion,
not knowing whether to count on sun or chill.
They begin to entertain thoughts of fatalism
but don’t want to give up just yet.

Perceive a weak,
slow whisperleak
in the air.
Change is imminent.

September is
the kindest kind of cruelty imaginable.
She is the now and not yet.
She is the house half-built.
She demands prayer.
In September,
the builder begs
for resolve
to finish what was started
before the cursing season takes over
and the last chance skips away smug.

September is
the epic novel that is
a mere three chapters shy of completion.
She is the teasing promise.
She asks you to trust her,
but does so with
a concealed wink and cross of fingers.

September is
the sigh that comes after sighing.
She is the nap
when you should be rising
and the wakening
when you should be reclining.

September is
the unavoidable call-to-arms,
suddenly interrupting furlough.
September is my coach, but
I am a novice runner
wishing to delay my training
just one more day.

In September,
too many cars return to the city.
Crane anxiously for a parking place.
You are a wheeled hamster.
Circle four more times.
Eventually an oil-stained spot will open.

Hope has its basis in September,
but it is forced.
hold on to this.
Thank heaven
hope is not utterly deferred.

1 comment:

Paulo J said...

like the green day song, "wake me up when september ends". maybe we'll be in a routine come october.