September

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiOG5cjvqlE2nZ2s5XcBpe1d08Dz0IUr3yP6RCX1ih1iCVrwiPkj2T-7nZC51O5FoJgDK1IH1p1uo7On2WH3nu4lnDHWZgvovk9t6Tdn0lALRf4COkZkuyZadgoTrw_0o6KdkocC4gA38/s1600/central+park+2+habituallychic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiOG5cjvqlE2nZ2s5XcBpe1d08Dz0IUr3yP6RCX1ih1iCVrwiPkj2T-7nZC51O5FoJgDK1IH1p1uo7On2WH3nu4lnDHWZgvovk9t6Tdn0lALRf4COkZkuyZadgoTrw_0o6KdkocC4gA38/s640/central+park+2+habituallychic.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">The breezes taste</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Of apple peel.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">The air is full</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Of smells to feel-</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Ripe fruit, old footballs,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Burning brush,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">New books, erasers,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Chalk, and such.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">The bee, his hive,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Well-honeyed hum,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">And Mother cuts</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Chrysanthemums.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Like plates washed clean</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">With suds, the days</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Are polished with</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">A morning haze.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;">- John Updike, <em>September</em></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: x-small;">Photo by Heather Clawson for Habitually Chic</span></div>

September

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...

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