Poems
The natural world often creeps into my poems. Here's the latest, written for a Wassail at Coton Orchard on 17th January. There's more about that here. If you'd like to use this poem (with due accreditation) for a Wassail event (as some have done already!) I would be delighted. If you can drop me a line to let me know that would be much appreciated. If you can send me a picture, even better!
The Hidden Orchard A Wassail song for Coton, and all our Traditional Orchards Beneath the gaze of winter trees, Behind the tangled veil, Before the lengthening of days, We come to sing, “Wassail!” Wassail the apple! Beat the bounds! Wassail this hallowed ground! These sentinels, the ancient seers, Where knot and rot are rife, All bear the fruit of rolling years, Decaying into life. Wassail the apple … Beneath each scarred, bedizened branch, Flocks and herds are fed. Between the heartwood and the bark, Multitudes are bred. Wassail the apple … Below the sward, in sweetened ground A world of being teems. And wassail words are passed around Between the listening trees. Wassail the apple … Walk this forest row by row. Read between the lines. Bless this ark of applewood. Observe this sacred time. Wassail the apple! Beat the bounds! Wassail this hallowed ground! Wassail this hallowed ground! |