Now we are come to the embers of the year

September: Summers’ end, a return to school and toil

And dark. A month forever tainted by the number eleven.

October: a month of stew and pie and sausages

Stocking our bodies ready for the coming cold.

November: bonfires and fireworks

Flashes of light in the deepening dark.

December: darkest of them all

With it’s feigned jollity amid a meaningless festival.

The embers of the year are dying; darkness draws in.

Yet fires can be re-stoked.

The stars shine brightest in the dark.

Summer might be over, yet fun does not end:

The embers of the year may yet burst into life!