Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel–
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.
~John Updike, September
Happy September, my friend. The seasons are changing here in my part of the world – and I love it!
~Adrienne~