Purple Haze

Have you ever heard a wine connoisseur describe a wine? It sounds as if he is describing a human being – full-bodied, rich color tones, strong bone structure, sweet disposition – some of my best friends aren’t that characteristic! And if that is not enough to deflate an amateur drinker’s self-confidence, just watch the way a wine expert drinks the stuff – he caresses it like a long lost child, he stares at it like a smitten sixteen year old, he sniffs it like a firehouse dog, and he gargles it like a mouthwash. I don’t mean to belittle wine and its sommeliers, but what is going on here?

Wine represents the hidden dimension, the part of us that can work for hundreds of years just to produce a mere few ounces of pleasure. It is called Life. The soil, the vine, the cultivation, the grape, the squeeze, the process – all culminating in a perfect wine, a perfect universe.

My tongue is still purple from all the Passover wine, the four cups of freedom, so what better time to write of wine than now?

Drink responsibly.

Wine
Red flow, sparkling
Dark pools of purple
Ink, writing sacred
Words on


winewineWhite


Shirts.


Hear the news on the
Grapevine:

Walk through the vineyard
It looks like a graveyard
But it’s really a backyard
With three feet of lanyard
And the passion of a spanyard

I wish you could look through the
winewinewineS
winewinewineT
winewinewineE
winewinewineM
winewinewineM
winewinewineE
winewinewineD
winewinewiGlass,
Into the burgundy depths –
wineAnd know my wine
winAnd not my whining.

This vintage is G-dly
If it weren’t such a pun
I’d call it:
The Grape of Divine

(We all want taste but we
Don’t want to wait for maturation)

It is dry but wet
Enough to whet my palette.
Semidry humor and semisweet
Smiles.

You can smell the bouquet
As you stick your curious snout
In other people’s business
(Which is fine if you don’t
Sneeze).

Grapes of Wrath:

Trying to flag down a yellow cabernet
Don’t say I don’t pinot!
Muscat got your tongue?
David killing Goliath with a
Riesling shot.
The highest of the high
The merlowest of the merlot
Don’t chardonnay say
Lest it be champagneful.
My grape juices are flowing
Barreling through the casket
Out of the spout, unto your lips.

The silence is worse than the grape.

Time to climb out of the wine
winewineCellar
winewinewinewineAnd into the message
winewinewinewinewinewineIn the bottle.

The sunlight hurts my eyes
Blinding
I am beginning to feel heavy
And my head is starting to spin.
I guess I better put a
Cork in it.
Now unwined.

(Need a designated driver –
But the road I travel can only be
Driven by me
Dilemma
Such is the life.)