A washed out blue sky
A pale winter sun
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| Pedernales Cellars in early March |
Streaming wisps of paper-thin clouds
Stretch out above the rolling hills
Swelling with soft brown grasses
Dancing beneath a soft southern breeze.
A kiss of warmth breaks the cold:
Winter’s embrace softens, loosens just enough
To allow a bit of gold to sneak in
Among the last clutches of green leaves
Turning olive on the branches
Before they are swept to the hard earth below.
I sip on memories of August heat
radiating in the last flames of ruby at sunset
and fighting back the cool creeping depths
of midnight purple night:
Distilled summer caught in each grape
Crushed into a liquid gem.
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| Two of the wines that inspired the poem. |
*This poem was inspired by a day drinking a number of red wines while sitting on the porch at Pedernales Cellars. The view is always inspiring, but on this day, I saw something very different. This was just after the big freeze and icing in the Hill Country and San Antonio. That Saturday had grown considerably warmer (compared to just that Thursday), but winter was still the prominent season. Somehow, though, the sunny day and the red wines -- I believe we were drinking a Texas Family Reserve and Tempranillo Reserve -- fought hard against the cold and the future freeze that would be just days away.
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