John Updike - Mother Picks Chrysanthemums 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