Wine mind, can I rewind mine? To before you were the lesser of the evils, a tonic to still my jitters, to numb my electric nerves. The cheaper the better, the sweeter the better. Something to swig. To talk to a person, to move to the music, to forget the day.
Wine mind, can I rewire mine?
I know there is more to you than a blurry night.
I know we are kindred – you and I.
Embittered by soil, softened by rainfall, fermented over time.
A product of process and maker, nature and nurture.
Wine mind, mine now tries to savor.
The ghosts of fruit and flower under a tanninous ardor.
You hold your stories under layers of aroma.
Guising to ward off the detached and unwary.
Inviting those with humble curiosity.
Wine mind, forgive our transgressions.
You are too complex to be taken for granted.
They talk of you as a thing to be mastered.
Decoding your notes and noting your vintage.
But their studious devotion belies their obsession, that eludes them for time eternal.
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