And again October ...
Once, and October throws gold, whispers foliage, purrs affectionately.
Two, here November crept treacherously, it's cold, you can't take his word for it.
Three, December conjures over the roofs, everything in this world is snowy with a fairy tale.
Well, four is brought to the windows by a January drawing with magical lace paint.
February blows into fierce pipes, swears, pricks, coughs with snow, Five breaths at the gate of passers-by.
Six, it smells like watermelon peels, March wanders the streets in wet shoes. Seven, April smiled dreamily, the world is ringing like streams, waking up, and the city falls in love again, in French, charmingly.
Eight, again the month of May lights the chestnut lights, and the sunrises of languor among the graduation bustle.
Nine, June, warm rain and thunderstorm.
Ten, grandmother's house, strawberries and cranes in the piercing blue sky.
Eleven, honeyed August and the sweetness of warm nights, scattering of stars and the sound of freedom-loving and proud seas.
Twelve, September gently kisses the tops of children, sending them on their way, and not falling asleep, remembering the cycle of times that is not subject to anyone.
Because again October and apple perfume, cookies, blanket and comfort, and so, day after day, our year by someone there, from above, beautifully spun.