Thursday, September 11, 2014

September Poetry

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 hums,
While Mother cuts

Like plates washed clean
with suds, the days
are polished with
a morning haze.

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Photo source:

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PS. A new post in the works.
See you soon,

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To My Beautiful Readers,

Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never the same. ~ Franz Peter Schubert

Thank you so much for leaving your 'footprint' here in my comment box. I do appreciate you taking a moment to share your thoughts today.

Brenda xo