On the one hand..... <br />Clusters of sour grapes, a jet trail overhead, <br />His, a cloud of suspicion, a cocktail of the unknown. <br />A skeleton of scarecrow stood as sentry, and time <br />And the Vintner closed their eyes and went to bed. <br />Helpless the grapes as the vines drooped and bled. <br /> <br />In the making.... <br />Of procrastinations, some wariness, some <br />Fatigue, oversight was lost, so too desire <br />To labor in the fields, to reap the bounty <br />Hard work comes with effort, but in the journal <br />He kept, that page was sadly missing. <br /> <br /> <br />On the other hand... <br />A cluster of storm clouds, the sky turned red.... <br />She, with back unbroken, gathered both the <br />Sweet with the sour, left some that were dead. <br />And with nary a glance at the past, held a foot <br />Stomping party and with effort made wine. <br /> <br />In the making... <br />And tasting of wine, some effort needed, <br />Some skill heeded, so too, the bad weather. <br />Like a mother caring for her children, <br />Promise encouraged as to her offspring <br />Sweet wine tips now its glass to her smile.<br /><br />Jackie Allen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/of-sour-grapes-and-wine/
