Butleigh - Wassail
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 --


Poem
Skeleton of the orchard
Birds cheeping, sky changing
Some trees old, some trees new
Bark falling
Mistletoe all around me
Lichen brown and grey.

Nice colours all around me
Bare trees swaying in the breeze
Grass like a jungle
Tips as sharp as blades
Trees staring at me
Squished apples, black and brown.
-- Alfie Lee --


Fire wood

The great old apple tree
Was chopped and torn

Now it lies in the fire
Wood pile all forlorn.
-- Katy Ball --


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.
The Winter Orchard
Helicopters gliding over
The rows of trees
All covered in lichen
Apple pie in the kitchen

On the trees there is a hard
And rough outer layer
But a smooth and crispy inner layer

As the clock strikes ten
The church bells ring
Turning from side to side
To make the chiming sound.

Rabbits hopping along
As if they are in a world of their own.
As winter ends the birds come.
-- Jack Gane --


I look out from the Tor
And see a little orchard
Look at the smoke of an old tree burning
Look at the mistletoe, copper yellow mistletoe
Look at the patches of yellow grass
Look at the fungi rings around the trees
Look at the apples squashed to the core
Hear the birds twittering
Hear the trees rustling, bustling
See no more apples
See no more blossom
Look its now winter.
Feel the winter breeze.
-- Luke Holman --


Survivors

Trees fight the strong breeze
They can survive
They live in the cold
They live in the heat
They can survive
They survive an annual pruning
They are stronger than a rock
They stand there like statues
The stand and creak tick tock
Orchard time.
-- Emily Corfield --



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