September
is a retaining wall. What do we not know that could bury us? September is a
bag, holds enough for immediate needs. A torch, a sandwich, a raincoat,
September is a bicycle. Don’t ride across oncoming traffic! September is a
ratbag politician. September is a saint in a tee-shirt. September is the sum of
all Septembers. September trams it instead. A flood, a fire, a salvage
operation, September pointedly adapts to climate change. September is a
manifesto, manifest destiny, many feats. September is a block of chocolate.
September is the name of a wordless symphony by some half-forgotten composer.
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