Through soft September's early morning mists
I sally forth in sturdy thorn-proof clothes
To face the prickly blackthorn which resists
My quest to reap her lovely blue-black sloes.
Soon I'm homeward bound with hard won prize
The sun breaks through, a bird sings merrily.
But now it's time for work and methods wise
To tell and mix the ancient recipe;
"Pick and prick the purple berries,
add the sugar and the gin.
Then the almonds, not too many,
seal it, let all soak in."
For months it's left until at Christmas time
With carols sung and turkey eaten, then
Before the fire, our glasses we all prime
With dark old nectar sweet, - our own Sloe Gin.
Tony Gardner
Image : Pixabay - LaMaLaMa55
