Two for my own Barrel of Apples

THE COMMONERS

REDSTREAK
(IN TOM JENKINS'S ORCHARD)

I was one of the family
sometimes scarce noticed
by Mollie, Dick or Fred but
Tom was different. He would
light his pipe close to me. We bonded,
shared the aroma of his 'Digger
Flake', rubbed between fingers,
caressed into that old briar pipe
and Swan Vesta lit.

My home, a little orchard, a small
corner. My space next to the
dew pond was sacred, ephemeral.
My spirit still flies, giving it the old
once over. Good people remembered.
You can find them in the Churchyard;
sweet smiles always.

BALL'S BITTERSWEET

Poor it is. Does anyone care?
Broken limbs, decay, rot, all show
our pain. Last summer's grasses
lie tangled beneath us poor fruit.
We all need a wash, but I'm okay.
Sadness when I remember 'The
Commoners'. George Oakley, trilby-
hatted walking home. Mary Ann too, her
white face ravined with black lines,
lean as a rake, a widow you know.
I will soon fall to lie as a feast
for the pheasant that comes to drink
at the dew pond's circular edge.

N.B. REDSTREAK is said to date from 17th Century
and it was considered a very good variety. Whether
the original species has survived is in doubt, but the
name survives. Both this one and Balls Bittersweet are
still grown.