Wine Country

Valleys wide of rust and green Rolling hills, such vintage green Woven rope of twisted vines Purple hues of grape divine Paths between the rows of braid Staked in strands so neatly laid As if a Sun God reaching down Had trailed his fingers 'cross the ground Welcome signs that offer tastes Archway drives, with landscaped gates Merlot reds, a richness deep Zinfandel, a year to keep Perfect day, a sweet escape A Champagne toast to celebrate