Hugh Sexey - Wassail
Grey clouds cover the sky

Grey clouds cover the sky
Daffodils come up
Trees wither and lie down
As I stare at the farm below.

The wind cuts across my face
Flooded fields on the moor ahead
Lush green grass
But the leaves have fled.

Randomly, primroses and teasels dot the orchard
A horse jumps around frantically
Magic colours, some dull, some bright
Make up these trees. Dark as night.

Green ivy climbs up old branches
Lush green grass is up to my knees
Grey clouds cover the sky
As I stare at the farm below.
-- Sam Jones --

The tree diary

Sept 23rd 2002

The apples are flocking off the trees
Like sheep in a field at feeding time.
All my growing, all my hard work
For nothing. The humans just take our apples,
With no respect. They don't listen
And it's too busy. Too busy.

March 3rd 2003

The trees are dull. The sky is dull
The orchard is dull.
No one has worked on us like they used to
I wish it was October when I was loved and known
As the biggest and best apple producer.
But now I am just a tree. Now I'm dull.

April 29th 2003

My pink blossom has grown
And overloaded out of my fingers
My beautiful blossom shimmers
In the new spring sky of many colours
As the orchard re grows.
The orchard is becoming alive again.

June 11th 2003

My blossom is now buds.
My buds will be apples

August 20th 2003

My apples will be cider
And once again I will be used
Loved, Happy
The good old days.

September 23rd 2003

What was I thinking
Looking forward to the cider season
It's horrible. Non stop apple picking
It seems apple picking has reared
Its hideous head again.
This is hell on earth.

March 3rd 2004

I miss the attention....
-- Robert Sparks --

The coming of spring

The wind whistling in my ears
The cold breeze brushing against my face
Daffodils blooming, primroses bright
Thorns crawling over my feet
Winding ivy climbing the trees
Mossy banks of grass to sit on
The cockerel crows to the dawn of spring.
-- Martha Emeney and Serin Rayner --

Group Poems
The daffodil

Bright yellow, dark green
Dancing in the grass, you'll see
Covered in rain drops
Moist and wet
See her in the springtime
I'll bet.
-- Jessica Searle --

One small shed

No light, so dull, not a sound
A sharp tangy smell of cider wafting through the air
Pheasant feathers of all colours tied up round the skull
The floor dampened and moist
Delicious smells of jams, mustards and jellies
My mouth watering with the look
Of all the fruit of the world,
So quiet, no machines whirring,
Just that lovely sweet smell,
Award winning eggs of all different sizes.
So many things in just one small shed.
-- Jenna Purves --

Looking Back

Ivy twists itself around the flying branches of the trees
The lush green ground littered with sun-bright flowers
Wind whistles around the grass singing its silent song
Auburn, brown, apples sit on the wavering grass
Trees branches twist and turn like they never end
A cockerel sings its good morning song
While a silent horse, chestnut, brown,
Moves slowly through the grass
Ears pricked and tail down-hanging.

The air piercing cold
No jumper of rainbow leaves for the trees
Rain drops gather on the petals of each and every flower
Twitters of the birds fill the air with joy
Remembering last year's summer.
-- Jenna Purves --

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