Scrumpers

Where the orchard is,
Beyond the well-worn path,
Beyond the darkling 'thorn,
Beyond the catching bramble,
Dusky with the dawn,
Birds inspect every codling,
Discovering them anew,
The perfect fruit,
Known to every child,
Riping beyond reaching,
Fingertips pining,
'ware o' the waspee!
The dog sniffing at the tree,
Turns savage to hear it,
'ware o' the waspee!
The shouting man,
Turns savage to hear it,
The peaceful cottage,
Whose orchard it is,
Abides and abides,
Neatly flowers round.

© R Frank Wilson