Wednesday, August 29, 2007

September By John Updike


The breezes taste

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.

2 comments:

Mrs. Staggs said...

This is a perfect poem to describe September.
You're in your new home! Hurray!
It looks very nice, and it looks like you have lots of nice spaces for your family to be together in. Love your Blue Willow!

Paula said...

I love fall ~ it makes me all happy inside. I planted two of my flower boxes in fall mums today. Yay!