To pull a cork is a journey commencing
To discover a story from vintage passed
An author has written words worth sensing
And placed them in a bottle of glass.
Like the rest of us, but with much closer connection
The wine ages on in cellar, cold
It deepens, widens, brightens in complexion
Maturing, reflecting, growing old.
And every one’s different! If still born the same year
And comes from very place and maker
Yet condition of keeping and shakings may rear
Diverse flavors from the same acre.
History, family, meaning within
Resonance with a time and season
Many have blossomed a mem’ry, a grin
When a sip transfigures reason.
It’s rare—I admit—when knowledge like this
So sweetly, intern’lly is downed
I think we all long for this earthly bliss
To drink the truth of the ground.
A Different Kind Of Speaking 