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Sonja Benskin Mesher
Poems
Sep 2018
.bramleys.
it happens every year
excited we run down to the damson tree
in gwylim’s garden
run on to the apple tree
with a clothes prop
to bash the fruit down
stand back when the boy shouts
he is chucking rocks in desperation
as boys inevitably do……..
may be that is where they learned it; those fishermen?
i think of all this when i see the last apple hanging
when i mend the clothes prop
(note- conkers next)
Written by
Sonja Benskin Mesher
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