The Village Autumn Show

Growers, bakers, makers, all

attend the decked out village hall.

Tatties dug and washed and graded,

roses picked at dawn - now jaded,

herbs in bunches, scents of heaven,

tiny toms in groups of seven.

Purple cabbage, must be fake

to have that perfect, rounded shape.

Medlars - used when they are bletted

join the group yet to be vetted.

Single flowers, groups and bunches,

plates of biscuits, cakes and munchies,

each one picked up, smelled or tasted,

not one judgement to be wasted.

Now, with prizes all decided,

through the doors the room is flooded

with the villagers, all keen

to comment loud on what they've seen.

And as for me, it comes to pass,

I have achieved a first in class.

The pound I won went on some cake,

a really, really tasty bake.

Sally Naylor