Riesling Reflections

Against all odds (and evens, too) I am the place I am;
It wasn’t me who got me here–
No dream, no scheme, no plan.

There was a word when I was young and then a space between
For growing things that grow mature,
All fresh and lush and green.

A seedling still, but evergreen, I raise my branches high:
A sign of openness, a sign
To You, my true supply.

I am a transplant far from home but rooted in the vine,
Thinking thoughts of glory shown
When water turned to wine.


In the Bar with the Barrister (Five Blogs I Just Followed)

I ordered another beer, looked up, and he was gone;
He wasn’t drunk, just nostalgic, lost in memories,
Wandering in the wonder of another place and time
Or trapped in a moment of darkness pre-dawn.

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