Butleigh - Wassail
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 --


The colour of the orchard
Long grass, swaying trees
Leftover mistletoe
The brown old leaves
The moss, the tree's unique.
Some old, some young
The trees are bare.
In the middle of the orchard
A fire burns
Everyone standing round.

Georgina O'Neill
-- The Bird --


I, Tree

I am the one who is known as the tree
I stand in the orchard writing poems about me
My friends stay by me day and night
To ourselves we are very different
But to sheep and bees we are a very familiar sight
You see are skins are very different textures
Rough, flaky and smooth
Because only I have a bees hive in my tooth
Mistletoe in my nose
And sheep wool in my toes
But I still have creatures cuddling me
Some called John and Garry
Others called Chloe, Kate and Larry
Some times they never stop
And I have to drop apples on their heads
To get them off, but all they do is laugh and eat them
Or climb up my branches to get more of them
I myself think more of the bees
Though I wonder what they will think of us trees.
-- Eleanor Gillett-Skeath --


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 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 --


Dead Trees
It looks like there's nothing happening
That's what you can see
The tree is busy down below
Even when the ground is covered in snow.

It starts getting cold
It starts getting chilly
The leaves are gone
The tree is trying very hard
It tries to grow its shoots
It looks like nothing's happening
That's what you can see.
-- Emily Corfield --


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 --



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