September gasps joyfully at the burst of color, despite a prolonged labor with her child, October. She fully realizes that this will be the last colorful tableau that she will see and is saddened by this fact, yet she has great joy that October will carry on the Tradition of the family of months, the family of time.
She understands that her time is brief, that her moments are fleeting, skipping away from her like a joyful child.
She knows, too, that her child's time will also be brief. It has always been that way. It shall remain that way. It is the will of the fates.
As she cries out in pain over the last few hours, her joy will become a peak higher than Everest, stretching out beyond the edge of the solar system...For she knows, too, that upon her death and Child's reign, that next year she shall be reborn...a little older, A little wiser...but with the same fate.
The birds bow their heads in grateful thanksgiving...and continue their journeys.
Enjoy the season. Times is fleeting, and unlike September, the time which goes does not return.
====AS I SEE IT=====