The highway trickles down to a one horse country road
winding with the grace of a spring filly in fall.
Tall poplars line the lane as it ambles south and slows,
gravel underneath makes a crackle then a yawl.
The summer day has cooled with evening's mystic cloak
falling without sound upon the vineyard. I'm stayed
remembering green days when we walked to the gnarly oak
near the vines and laughed at nothing, unafraid.
Today like yesterday, the Chardonnay ripen on the vine,
our initials carved in the trunk of the tree
are visible still in the rough bark aged like the wine
we now savor beneath our grape leaf canopy.
---Judi Van Gorder
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