Poetry
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The Breezes Taste of Apple Peel - John Updike
John Updike - Mother Picks Chrysanthemums The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruits, 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. - John Updike
