Posted by: Lisa | April 24, 2018

The Cider Mill

My poem, “The Cider Mill,” which used to be available online at Every Day Poets:

Autumn air, crisp as apples, warm and yet not –
Every year, the cider visits.

Ah, to stuff plucked fruit
into brown paper bags
and watch machines smash apples
to quench more
than a mortal thirst.

Machines as in monasteries
of my past life, powered
by water carried in wooden tiers – Falling
droplets prick my skin in shaded gardens.

Sweet, ecstatic cider swirls
into my contented cup.

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