Butleigh - Wassail
Ghost Tree

Spirits float from tree to tree
Ghost tree, skeleton tree
I hear them whisper, whisper
" Look, listen, Listen to the trees" I say
But no one's there. I'm all alone
The trees suddenly mirror me
And the shouts getting quieter and quieter
"Listen to the trees, the trees, the trees "

Suddenly they seem to twist out of shape
Into roaring devils, throwing down thunderbolts
And spitting at me.
I run and run, but the trees won't stop jeering
The grass is soft and wet
And carries me on my way home
I burst through the door to face....
A warm fire and apple pie. It's all over.
-- Julia Sheills --


The mole
Crawling through the leaves
And long grass
Eating the odd old apple.

Cars going past, helicopters in the air
And birds singing in the trees.

The trees are bold and bare
With lichen on the bark
And instead of the apples
There is a soft green moss.
-- Jack Tucker --


Bird's eye view
Trees look small when I'm up in the air
All in lines pair by pair
Little children from my view
Sky grey now blue.

The sky's constantly changing colour
Different trees getting duller and duller
Mistletoe looks like yellow spots
Badgers holes are dark brown dots.

Mouldy brown black apples
All squashed together.
The trees look up at me
Swaying in the weather.
-- Johnny Edmondson --


Group Poems
Skeleton of the orchard
I rub my back against an old tree
It creaks. This time of year
The orchard is quiet. It's comforting.
The sky's constantly changing colour
Different trees getting duller and duller
And instead of the apples
There is a soft green moss.
Look at the mistletoe, copper yellow mistletoe
But deep in their heart
They are getting ready
For the big blooming spring.
In the middle of the orchard a fire burns
Everyone standing round.
Apple pie in the kitchen.
It looks like nothing's happening
That's what you can see.
There are millions like me
But I am unique
Spirits float from tree to tree
The trees are dormant quiet and sleepy
I am a flaky skinned, big white spotted
Mistletoe growing tree
There's not a red one to be found
Bare trees whisper like skeletons on the move
I am the one who is known as the tree.
A winter orchard
The skeleton trees
Without any leaves
No apples, no blossoms
The crunchy branches
With only mistletoe as a friend.

Birds singing
Moles crawling
Deer rambling through the orchard
Searching for food for the winter.

The trees are getting colder
I can see it in their skin
But deep in their heart
They are getting ready
For the big blooming spring.
-- Archie Churchill-Moss --


Orchard Winter

Trees young trees old, trees small trees bold
Trees stripped bare like skeletons
Mistletoe is fair and yellow
Growing among the trees is moss
There is a cold breeze as cold as frost
The trees are dormant quiet and sleepy
Swinging in the breeze loud and creaky
The trees may look cool and not doing much
But don't be fooled they are doing a lot.
-- Eloise Harris --


What am I ?
My home is cold, but I never feel it
There are millions like me
But I am unique
Each summer part of me is taken away
But I am never in pain.

No man can lift me
Or reach my head unassisted
I know all the secrets of the past
But now my time has come
I can see the farmer with axe.
But not a tear do I shed
-- Katy Ball --



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