Poem by Diane Dunwell-Hoffman © 1996
A crisp cool autumn day, the scent of wood burning.
People dressed in flannels and jeans come with a yearning.
A yearning to experience a way of life, hands on,
sweat on the brow, crafters long gone.
Raking the lambs wool, spinning the yarn, and then weaving the cloth,
while the sheep graze in a pen.
The smells, oh the smells, apple butter in a kettle, a stew
cooking on an open hearth, hot burning metal at the blacksmith shop.
The tastes, the sips, the licks,
Cider, apple butter, honey, and hard candy sticks.
All around is autumns glory, trees of red, orange,
No high-tech society, just the truly wonderful ways of old.
Millbrook Village Days 2007