Vranac
for Julia and Bob Denne
I tasted a little once,
a glass you brought—
fragrant, clear but dense—
berry tarred
with burnt oak,
flavors of summer
churned into late
autumn. Ripened
and bottled on a slope
in Montenegro,
that wine held fast
the ombres
of dark red velvet,
slightly sun-faded,
like covers
of old hymnals.
This spring, between
squalls of late snows,
you offer photographs—
shy woodland
blooms, rising
into chill green air:
red trillium—
strong pulse,
black earth and flame,
intoxicating hue
that I never before knew.
Now, I am drinking it in.
Thank you.
Leslie Schultz
Photo: Julia Denne, 2019
You are so right about that–the deep colors of spring include that deep reds of maple flowers and red-twig dogwood stems spring to mind, as well as the bulbs we plant!
The end of the first stanza leaves me breathless – so beautiful. And simply the idea of something tasting like a season is so sensual and satisfying. I also love that the deep dark purple of the photos is so unlike the pastels of spring yet they announce life too, don’t they?
Lovely! Perhaps Bob is right. I am quite sure that he is more discriminating about wine. I am easily dazzled both by the subtle hues of natural beauty and by the contours and flavors of memory. Here’s to friendship and sharing experience!
Leslie, thank you! This is what Bob says: “Great complementary poem and pictures. Your superlatives, I think, exceed the wine’s.”