SEPTEMBER

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The peaches are ripe in the orchard,
The apricots ready to fall,
And the grapes reach up to the sunshine
Over the garden wall.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

Berries on a branch
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown,
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
Emily Dickinson.

Oak leaves
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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