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Brawny Ale
A frothy crown, pale as the whites
Of eyes widened with fascination,
Perched on a robust body, deep as molasses.
Brooding; concealing a warm rapport.
But still so condescending, its stout posture
Condenses air to beads of sweat.
Invited, parched lips kiss the cold glass
Rewarded with familiar comfort -
A bitter burst, sharp and clean,
Fading into toffee warmth,
Hints of roasted coffee and chocolate bloom,
All linger, like a whispered secret.
The golden harp strums cheerful notes
In harmony with taps, clinks, and murmured oaths
Cheers dance over lacquered walls, awash with glee
As gulps of crisp bitters and molten sweets
Cascade, watering dry cracks in weary bones.
A tonic for the soul, it lifts the load -
Worries dissolve, fading like bubbles on the lip.
It washes away the settling dust,
Soothes the mind into peaceful currents,
Sinking burdens to its murky depths
As spirits rise to play in the air of its frothy crown.
Copyright ©
Robert Blair
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