Hugh Sexey - Wassail

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

Orchard in Hibernation

From the sun and now the dullness
The tall green grass has turned to mud
Apples galore are now no more
Instead a few half eaten remains
No white sacks prop the blossoming trees
Now the bases of the trunks are bare
A horse in the field roams
As if the whole orchard belongs to him,
We are on his territory but he doesn't mind
We perch upon a fallen tree taken by the wind
Then we rumble down the steepest hill
To the metal base down below
Where we see several pheasants
Hanging from the roof
The orchard is in hibernation
It will come out some day soon.
-- George Cressy --

Something's missing

Cold wind and grey sky
Misty distances and trees so high
But the orchard stays green as ever.

Apples missing, leaves missing
Cows and sun missing
The orchard has become dull

There was no cider being made
There were no apples being collected
Nothing.... Nothing...... nothing.
-- Robbie Marshall --

Group Poems
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 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 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 --

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