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
