From Geoffrey Hill's "September Song":

    September fattens on vines. Roses
    flake from the wall. The smoke
    of harmless fires drifts to my eyes.

    This is plenty. This is more than enough.

I think Linda Pastan wrote these words on a hot September night like this:

   Their summer romance
   over, the lovers
   still cling
   to each other

   the way the green
   leaves cling
   to their trees
   in the strange heat

   of September, as if
   this time
   there will be
   no autumn.

(from "The Months")