On The Vine

Strung along on neighboring swaths of branch,
Their seeping juices give flavor to the richly tended soil.
Rosy glimmers, a million strong, strike a symphony
In dancing moonlit reflections off their
Bursting silky skins.
A dawn approaching hastily
Brings vines of scarlet to radiant overture
Under the glistening spell of enveloping dew.
Wrought skillfully to fruition
Are the teeming, endless fields
Of summer grape.