September is more than a month, really; it is a season, an achievement in itself. It begins with August's leftovers and it ends with October's preparations, but along the way it achieves special satisfactions. After summer's heat and haste, the year consolidates itself. Deliberate September—in its own time and tempo—begins to sum up another summer.
With September comes a sense of autumn. It creeps in on a misty dawn and vanishes in the hot afternoon. It tiptoes through the treetops, rouging a few leaves, then rides a tuft of thistledown across the valley and away. It sits on a hilltop and hoots like an October owl in the dusk. It plays tag with the wind. September is a changeling, busy as a squirrel in a hickory tree, idle as a languid brook. It is summer's ripeness and richness fulfilled.
九月绝非仅仅是个月份，九月就是一个季节——一个收获的季节。乘着八月的余兴，孕育着十月的辉煌，九月承前而启后，乐在其中。经 过一个匆忙的炎炎夏日，时令的节奏开始减缓。从容不迫的九月踏着悠悠的节律，迈着闲适的步伐，宣告又一个夏季的终结。
随着九月的脚步，秋意悄悄而来。隐隐的秋意降临于薄雾蒙蒙的清晨，消失于烈日炎炎的午后。它踮着脚尖在枝头树梢穿行，随意点染 几片红叶，接着又隐身在大蓟丝绒之中，越过山谷，飘然离去。秋意时而追风逐韵，东躲西藏，时而栖息山颠，咕咕幽啼，像是十月夕阳残照中的猫头鹰。九月忙来如胡桃树上的松鼠，闲来如缓缓流淌的溪涧。夏日的成熟和丰饶在九月一览无余。