Somerset Cider Widow

Verse 1
Frost nips the blossom in the dark
petals fall like unanswered letters
I crush the apples at first light
hands stinging with cider’s sharp kiss
wassail song echoes in the hollow
same tune as the year the trees wept
Verse 2
Market stall leans into the wind
buyers want cheap, want sweet
I bottle the rough stuff anyway
sell it door to door for the truth
the land asks for more than grief
it asks for your fingerprints in the soil
Verse 3
Granddaughter sips, pulls a face
too sharp, Nan
I say taste the winter in it
the fight the tree put up
some harvests sweeten late
others hold the frost in their heart
Verse 4
Rain floods the ditches again
turns the yard to cider-clay
I dig the channels with my boots
spade aching in my palm
the orchard drinks my days
gives back this hard, dry wine
Verse 5
Moon over the Mendips cold
shines on the vats of waiting gold
I stir the slow fermenting scrum
smell sharp as a fresh-cut loss
some hurts turn to vinegar
some to a fire in the throat
Verse 6
So I’ll press these bitter fruit
till my knuckles are stained dark
the widow’s brew bites back clean
defying the blight’s slow tooth
The stain stays on my knuckles.