Hugh Sexey - Wassail
A tree

I stand here
Cold but not lonely
Others all around me
The daffodil bright yellow
Popping its head out to another spring day
The grass quivering in the wind
The horse walking around silently
Eating happily
And the brambles pricking people
As they walk past.
In the orchard silent but not lonely.
-- Christie Zanelli --

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 --

The orchard pony

The light thud of pony's hooves
Slowly nibbling the long green grass
Her mane flying in the strong wind
The soft touch of her warm neck
The gentle breeze of her hot breath
Trotting away under the apple trees
In the peace of the orchard, her home.
-- Martha Emeney and Serin Rayner --

Group Poems

A blanket of sleep thrown haphazardly
Over the weary orchard.
Silence now, but for the soft rustling
Of the wind against the fresh green grass.

One chestnut horse lingers in the corner
Of the otherwise empty orchard
He looks not quite sure that he should be there
But he is waiting for something

Perhaps a cataclysm to occur
Soft yellow primroses bloom in the stillness.
A harsh grey wind whips about my hair
And through my fingers.

Next season the orchard
Will be buzzing with life and vigour
But for now a still mist
Drifts into place and time stops.
-- Carla Gordon --


Still and quiet
The orchard lies asleep
Resting, just calmly resting
In the freezing winter breeze.
-- Hesham Afifi --

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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