September Poem
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 hum,
and Mother cuts
Like plates washed clean
with suds, the days
are polished with
a morning haze.
John Updike

September is here and I’m ambivalent.  While I appreciate the cooler air, I’m not a fan of the steady march towards winter.

Yes and No

Yes!  I love a good apple crisp made from freshly picked apples.  No!  I don’t like pulling out winter clothes and putting my sandals away. Yes!  Fall is the only time of the year for Pumpkin Spice anything.  No!  I don’t like the chill that settles into my bones.

Yes.  September is here.  And I’m uncertain how to feel.