Susan Senator

September. This word connotes a dying, like the embers of a fire. Also, the “ember” part feels like a turning-over.
August: I picture a big, heavy thing trying hard to breathe. Red and pink with effort.
June: It is one syllable, sounds like “tune.” A song, swelling. Reminds me of the wind lifting upwards, gently. Also, living in the present. May is like this, but lighter, more active, perhaps yellower.
July: Lavender-purple, fully flexible, bent, supple and fecund over a stream.
March: Stiff, like hard frozen ground, a forced brisk walk in the brittle cold air.
April: Pale pink, sloppy, running fast to keep up
January: Like a long, indeterminate yawn. Goes on forever, in an unsatisfying way
February: Tough to pronounce, as if your lips were pinched with cold and boredom. Originally from the old Yiddish words “Fed-up-with-U-already.”
November: Actually has the word “no” in it, as a warning: No leaves, no green, no more rogue warm days.