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Personal Note:
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Poem
Dinner was over an hour ago
Counters wiped clean, dishes are washed and dried
I hold my glass up to the light like a color slide,
and see the world, warped, and blurred through the half glass of rosy wine
It makes everything seem clearer somehow, and sobers the mind

                    Forming long, umber silhouettes,
                    we sit on the lawn, and gaze to the mountains,
                    talking quietly, and sipping the pink chardonnay
                    Dark of the shade seems to drink up the light of day

                    Evening carols being sung by two mourning doves, 
                    are accompanied by a choir of crickets in the dewy grass
                    calling for reverence, in honor of a dying sun

                    Soft voices are lifted in still air
                    The pink light seems to paralyze time.

We have found kindness here, 
                     and somehow the grueling trials of the year
                     seem smaller than they did yesterday

Now the day turns toward the darkness
                     and we have rid our taste of the dry and bitter dust
                     of everything that has been said and done
The north wind shakes the trees
                      and the last leaf that clung so fast and tight
                      releases its grip, and disappears into the dusk
We shall never need to see where it lands 
                      for we  are  forbidden strangers to the dark

Let us remain friends with the light

Let us unclench our old resistance

And after we have finished the last drop of wine
                      we will turn, and go inside
                      and thank our stars
                      for the pungent taste
                      that yet lingers
                      on our tongues

                      in case
                      we might
                      need
                      proof 
                      that some years will harvest a bitter taste....

                      and  
                      some
                      years
                      will
                      harvest
                      a
                      crop
                      blessed
                      by
                      the
                      sun
                      

                      



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