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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3434 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Honeymoon Vintage Steve Williams Each evening, we walk the aisles of dark concrete, deep in the wine cellar. Place palms on pillars of French oak. I stop, propose we open chardonnay or pinot noir. As you do everyday, you pause, savor the fermentation of words, gently answer no. The only religion is our labyrinth of intricate taste. Yet you roll syllables on your tongue, musk permeates your mouth and nose: aroma of answer without question, faith of future harvests. We wait for wine invested in cask racks, sip the morning warm skin, the weight of merlot eyes. Drink complex fruit, a transitive bit of burn in each swallow, finish the bottle. Do not wonder from which barrel it was filled. |
