Summer Rings

June nights to September afternoons

the leaves swaying clapping celebrating

a high cool breeze in the golden light

pour the wine and yes add ice if you wish

there is no judgment here of what

you bring to your lips mildly smiling

in that mesmeric way that leaves me staring

until compelled to kiss the cold corner of your mouth

tasting the mix of you and fermented grapes

the clink of the ice in the glass touching the table

where the beads of sweat form a ring unseen

as our attention takes us elsewhere

sometimes into the following dawn

Summer Light and Winter Wine

it’s light in the house in summer

laundry breeze-blown on the lines

the light of winter low and cold

a snow hill’s harsh incline

the word summer is a lantern

a vegetable on the vine

winter’s word is hanging dead

but the sweeter grapes for wine

Drinking In The Solstice

in this last low light of the waning year

deep blue shadows westward leaning solely

craven and cold they cling to edges

recline beneath trees astride cars below ledges

stretching toward the long night to join them wholly

wrap a shawl around your shoulders dear

and let’s trip the year’s last light

we’ll blithely sip the shadows here

drinking much too long into the night

until at last refreshed with darkness gone

we turn our longing to the waxing dawn

Drinking A Memory

writing by this lamp in humid silence

ice melting slowly a glass of whiskey

condensation on the outside seeping

into the paper coaster she bought last

summer at one of the wineries we

went to while on vacation where i spit

into the bucket as she swallowed sweet

dandelion wine and later drunk came

to my door with those coasters in one hand

whiskey in the other her dress clinging 

to the sweat on her chest asking if 

i had an interest two glasses and ice