Autumn haikus about Chudleigh’s apple farm:

Wool-clad folk gather
In a muddy field, to pick
Ripe apples and gourds.

Everywhere, children
Goats, hens, pigs, dogs, mouldy hay:
Wholesome smells so bad.

Coat, scarf, hat and mitts
Fail to keep the cold at bay:
Good thing we brought rum.

Rich empire of fruit!
Tasty pies cost too damn much
Where’d fifty bucks go?

What is up with boys
Wanting what they cannot have?
I remain aloof.