Riding in luxury on a sofa in the back of Denis’s pickup, seeing the beautiful Klamath country in style. We were driven directly under a rainbow that day, so it was on either side of us as we passed! photo by Georgia Moriarty
September is the Cruelest Month
One cruel month is January, murdering December––
failed resolutions of last year we’re now forced to remember.
February rivals it for those with lovers missing––
conjuring up memories of valentines and kissing.
March may come in cruelly–a lion or a ram,
but it is not the cruelest month. It goes out like a lamb.
April is the the month of rain and flowering and rhyme.
It cannot be the cruelest month. It is the most sublime.
May is not a cruel month, nor June, most surely not.
July and August are most kind––luxurious and hot.
September is the month for me that is the cruelest.
September is the month where I received my biggest test
in learning how to live alone after so many years,
conquering the loss of you. Battling my fears.
September was the month you left because you had to go––
away from planned adventures down a road you didn’t know.
Setting off alone–something you rarely did in life,
where you preferred to travel with a lover or a wife.
October found me no man’s wife, November found me gone
to take the road that we had planned. I would not be death’s pawn.
Then that December–– crueler than any month I’ll own.
That was the month I had the time to finally feel alone.
The prompt today was to write about “The cruelest month.”
http://www.napowrimo.net/day-four-4/
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
It was the cruelest month…but it doesn’t have to be any more! September can be awesome…a second summer! Sometimes it’s best to learn from our dogs….they live in the moment and certainly don’t know what month it is or what month something bad happened. I try to learn from my dogs.
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I know. I don’t dwell on things, except in art and writing–where it is sometimes necessary. There’s something about the creative process that demands that we time travel and feel what we felt then. It is not a place where I live, but rather where I travel in spurts.
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That is one reason I’m not too fond of “journaling”. It makes me feel bad about the past! And when I read what I’ve written during hard times in the past I feel awful all over again. Better to remember the happy times and make plans for the future. You seem to do a great job of living in the present, but I realize your assignments take you to unexpected places in your mind 🙂
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I feel better after confronting issues.. even in the past. It is cathartic.
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I think we are more and more like that as we grow older–like it or not!
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And you travel wonderfully there.
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Ah, thanks, Patti.
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Aw.. :’-(
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That was actually a nice, gentle way to tell your story for those of us who didn’t know.
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