summer wine.

they laid their heads down on the dirt path
in between rows upon rows of ripened
sweet pinot noir vines, aromas thick like syrup in the air

they could almost taste it in the space around them.

in between feathered leaves and dark rooted vines,

lush-deep-majestic fruits, tightly wound and heavy.

light flickering on its surface, like the light on their faces.

dark stain on their lips from the wine they drank

and the kisses they'd shared, in between the laughter

that flickered like an old oil lamp as the air rolled past. 

they took a sip of wine, looking at the other over

the bottom of the bottle as the taste lingered on their tongue.

tastes of raspberry and cherry and currant melt like wax

congealing with sweet reddened grapes, and then they kiss. 

and, then, there it is, the hot-cold flash of exaltation of summer love 

and the blood rushing fast and sparkling like dry champagne.

they let their hands clench in the dirt, holding it 

as if they could capture a part of this earth, this bearing earth, 

much as this day had clenched their own hearts.

but for now, they laid their heads back down, and let the air
wash over them, while the sunlight crashed through
the leaves and berries and honest to god sweetness of summer.
a bottle of pinot noir between their heads,
open and breathing, half of its life drank out of it.