nestled in the hills
in the midst of Tuscany
following an aged man
down a well beaten path
hurtling puddles, climbing hills
amongst emancipative beauty
in the cool autumn air
intimately knowing the harvest
ravaging the vine
of its abundant crop
selecting luscious bunches
to be fermented, morphed
sold as fine wine
Thursday, September 25, 2008
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2 comments:
you mean grape juice right?
No, I think I meant wine. Today's harvest will yield about 30 bottles of fine wine to be sold to restaurants in Florence.
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