The Grape

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.

it reads:
Like a grape, a grape I'm crushed
Blessed and pressed but never rushed
Plucked and pruned and newly pulled
Swished and spiced and duly mulled

To ferment I'm left in air
Pressed on cold and slow to fare
Aged in wood and soaked like blood
Cut like grass and chewed liked cud

Baked as bread in leisure rise
Waiting wit, and find it wise
Long is grown the patient beard
In this patience is fullness neared

The heart is made and made to break
The wine is brewed for men to take
And give thanks to God above
An oblation of thanks, a breaking of love.

1 comment:

  1. What wonderful imagery, dear! Reminds me a bit of 2 Cor. 4:8-10.


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