Poetry: Writers Gathering at Mawby Vineyards

A new friend brought me here tonight. Into this bustle of writers where we are working alone or gathered in small groups, talking, laughing, sipping wine with others; gathering here from a 50 mile radius; our host tonight, fellow writer, maker of extraordinary sparkling wines, Larry Mawby.

It’s a picture perfect summer evening and poems are rising. Here it comes….

summer grapes.jpg

Dance of Soil

Vines rise on wire scaffolding

Pushing sunshine up green spines

Still summertime-

and fruit is but a dream

sleeping quietly in the roots

I have seen this dance before on other continents.

Deep in the Barossa-

Strewn across the Andalusian plain

Spread boldly through the valley at the top of California

and here, today-

Teenage vines safely held in the heart of Leelanau

All dancing to the tune

of soil and fickle weather gods

After casting their magic-

some of this …some of that

Leaning air on wood and steel.

Around the world the vintners

wait to plunge

their thief

into the barrel’s heart

Breath held- until they catch the scent

Of devil’s feet and the sound of money burning-

Or rare bouquet of perfect wine-

Kissed by sun and fanned by angel wings.

Mawby Vineyards and Winery, Suttons Bay, Michigan

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