Butleigh - Wassail
Fire wood

The great old apple tree
Was chopped and torn

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


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 --


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.
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 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 --


A graveyard of trees

Bare trees whisper like skeletons on the move
Some are old and knobbly
Others young and smooth
Its colder than a graveyard
There is smoke in the air
They're burning all the cuttings
Of the trees that are so bare
A freezing wind begins to blow
The trees sound like ghosts as they creak
Trees may drop branches
And can condemn you to endless sleep.
-- Annabel Dukes --



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