An Ode to Comfort: Late Winter at Bending Branch

And for the last day of National Poetry Month...

Over the hills, two bird’s call

and answer one another;

a song in balance, a high

and a low, heard but not seen.

Back and forth they continue, high,

higher, their voices reach;

carried aloft, subtle breezes

cannot hide an unexpected discord.

It must be the wind, winter kissed

that ruffle the leaves that hide them.

It must be the cold, slipping past their feathers,

driving through them like a knife.

But, ah, there is the sun, yellow-

white, peeking through slow moving clouds.

The warmth brushes past the chill,

A warmth beneath the pair’s feathers.

The debate calms and settles,

softened by the mounting warmth.

They sing in harmony, together

with a third voice: the wind’s whisper.

Note: This poem is not inspired by any wine; however, it was inspired by a visit to Bending Branch earlier this year. It was quite day that bordered on winter and spring. Sometimes, the setting at the winery is inspiration all on its own.

ALSO, the 4th Annual Bending Branch Derby Party is on Saturday, May 3 from 11-6. s usual, I will be there with a new hat. For more info, see my article on Texas Wine and Trail.

Distilling Summer: Pedernales Cellars' Reds

A washed out blue sky

A pale winter sun

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.

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.

The Allure of the Dark Images of Fly Gap's Lights Out

Lights Out in normal light

Saturated earth, rich and dark, spills

out between golden and green grasses.

A smell of life not yet born

stirs me, draws me forward.

Limestone crests break free

from the heavy expanses of fresh turned soil.

Gritty and strong, they stand

For me to grasp and hold tight.

From purple to black, the sky deepens,

swells to embrace the horizon and beyond.

The night settles about me,

gently drapes me:

I close my eyes, relax,

Lights Out under blacklight

let the moment overcome me. 

**NOTE: This poem was written just after tasting Dank: Lights Out from Fly Gap Winery. The wine is made from 71% Syrah from Mason country and the rest Mourevdre. The Mason County Syrah is the dominant factor here. For me, the wine smell and tasted like Mason. This poem tries to capture that.