Cider, the Poem

HERE’S A POEM ABOUT CIDER FROM KAY WOZENCROFT (YOU KNOW, ‘ER WHAT WUKS IN MITCHELDEAN CO-OP):

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Cider

When the apples are all gathered

And the orchard trees are bare

When the mill-stones turning

Slowly

And a rich scent fill

The air

As the apple-pulp is squeezed

And the juices start to flow

And the barrels are made ready

In the evening’s twilight glow

When hands that oft have laboured

In the darkness of the mine

Life the golden liquid laboured

Over carefully measured time

Raising glass to mouth with sweet

Anticipation

Of the sparkling quenching power

Of this crystal bright libation

When glass then are downed

And sharp sweetness has been

Tasted

When sorrows have been drowned

And not one golden droplet

Wasted

When you’ve tasted the pure

Clean freshness

Of this princess in a glass

And you lie in Autumn softness

On cool and yielding grass

And watch with placid eye

The sky above you stretching wider

Then you, my friend, like I have

Had your first ever glass of

CIder

Kay A. Wozencroft

(Reproduced by kind permission of the author)

And her book of poetry, Forest Flowers, is out now.

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