Get Your Premium Membership

Wild Grapes

In past summers it was rare to see these wild vines heavy with fruit. This year there’s a bumper crop of clusters reaching to tree top. The grapes have yet to ripen blue before the foxy taste comes through. As with the lives of certain men age and disease bring an end, they pay no heed if they live or die if only to ripen the art they live by.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 3/21/2023 9:11:00 PM
I really like this one, Maurice. As I am aging this one is very truthful and revealing. Great poetry here!
Login to Reply

Book: Shattered Sighs