December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...
December, being the last month of the year, cannot help but make us think of what is to come.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
July is the time when expectations are at their peak. May the days be ever in your favor.
March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.
September: it was the most beautiful of words, he’d always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.