a winemaker’s dinner

Waking the morning after

my head, inside a barrel

two pygmy goats knocking on my door.



My ears seemed filled with ants

voices reverberating in my mind

my eyes closed to the sun.


The table spread before me

select wines and the choicest

a feast for the senses.


I bowed to desire of the moment

a night and morning to remember

 suffering my toll of excess.


2 thoughts on “a winemaker’s dinner

  1. Alas, unfortunately I have known the feeling you so perfectly describe here! Ah, I hope that it was worth it…A winemaker’s dinner? I bet that it was…


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