fresh, crisp and tart
pressed, transforming
to a precious golden elixir
the first day of fall
captured in a bottle
released to the cauldron
a snap of hand rolled cinnamon
sweet and spicy bark
the flavors of the jungle
extracted to excite sensuality
clove buds, too weave their
lush exotic spell
infusing the potion
with kicks of emotion
allspice a mysterious sphere
unripe perfection, bobbing around
crushed or ground in fragrant power
the Anise star, pungent fruit
fractal compartments
floating whole with spiral rinds
ripe oil-bearing and orange
simmering and stirring
inhaling the emanations of an
international delight
filtering back less than entered
evaporated to a
deep vintage tawny gold
mulled over well and good
cider, treasure of
the autumn orchard heart
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.



Comments (1)
What a beautiful sensory poem. I’ve never had cider before, but you make me want to try it based on your description of how it is extracted and made. Well done!