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.


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
John Updike
John Updike

Leave a Comment