In the cobwebbed half-light of the cider barn
a well-tempered mare pulls the wheel
around a granite crusher filled to the brim
with autumn’s tawny harvest.
Once pressed, the liquor extracted,
casked or bottled, the cloudy remains
are collected and stirred all through the night
in a brass bachin over an open fire.
More apples are added, with spice and liquorice
and the nocturnal watchers sing folk songs in the old language
accompanied by fiddle and accordion.
They toast this year’s batch of Cider and Black Butter.