September

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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 such.

The bee, his hive
  Well-honeyed, hums,
And Mother cuts
  Chrysanthemums.

Like plates washed clean
  With suds, the days
Are polished with
  A morning haze.

~ John Updike

I just love the rhymes in this, and all the little details that remind me, as they do the author, of September.  For me, this month also means "Indian summer", meadows full of goldenrod, and my son Ben's birthday.  What things remind you of September?