Vineyard Winter
Leaden wind rings buoy bells.
Sands sift through garden gates
Frost kissed bud kept
Hopes in petals wrapt
Mullion cut light beckons day
From dark mists answering
Whispering thistles playing
Shining lantern light
Against picket staff
Dappled dewdrops dangle delicately
Not unlike blood until
A sharp shot drops
The bullock to bended haunch
Knife quarters quivering
Muscle meat for winter’s sustenance.
Gregory Albright
Hartland 2007
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