The Pedigree of Honey
Does not concern the Bee —
A Clover, any time, to him,
Is Aristocracy —
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1650)
Tag: honey
apple pickers
The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel –
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Drying grass,
New books and blackboards
Chalk in class.
The bee, his hive
Well-honey, hums
While Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.
~ John Updike
(September)
~ autumn equinox ~