shall we raise love’s goblet now,
so soon, to drink raw wine
this vintage newly casked,
or should we free
our senses to absorb
time’s sun and water,
ripening our feelings gently
matching nature’s earthy rhythm,
gathered in at peak and pressed,
their bursting essence flowing into
stout oak cradles to ferment
and morph to richness
on the tongue and in the heart,
is this not worth the wait?
note: this is an Anacreontic, a poem about love and wine. done with no set meter or rhythm. Today’s prompt on the NaPoWriMo.com site.
poem and photograph © 2014 KH Rantilla. all rights reserved.