Primary red, this label, and the wine, fresh-drawn,
plucked from the bottle, tumbling tinto, into the glass.
Swirled, streaked ruby by overhead lights, bubbles
bright with hints of garnet, purple, brick at meniscus.
Sniffed, it smells of warm autumn days, scintillating
leaves, just crisping, turning color, and fruit all ripe.
Tasted: fruit bursts into hints of raspberries,
strawberries, spices, a touch of garrigue, mysterious.
Wine descends like water on a dry, hot, dusty day,
or rain after drought, when thirsty lands lap up
liquids, and rejoice in moisture’s blessings.
Raised now the glass, vineyard and vintners toasted,
midnight greeted, saluted the old day past and gone,
welcomed the fresh day walking in, swaddled, new born.
2 thoughts on “Midnight”
You have described such an event in our lives that gives us so much pleasure.
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Thank you, Robert. I am still working away. I am not sure if the pandemic has helped or hindered. We have got out less, but stayed inside, turned inside, and written more. Thank you for reaching out and writing.