This blog is the result of a word blog 'challenge' started by a friend on a British political forum. The site admin opened a dictionary to a random page and placed his finger on a random word which would be the blog word. His selection was "FERMENT".
At one time
Called for beautiful
Women to trod the bountiful
Harvest of ripe grapes.
In a drunken dream I see their lovely shapes
Long legged buxom women
Skirts raised, legs the color of tannin
From long days in the sun.
They trod grapes till day was done.
Approaching shyly, basket filled with ripe
Plump red grapes, I wipe
My brow while dumping
The fruit over bare pumping feet
Stained purple from the juice
That flows freely down the sluice
Into casks grown wet
With nectar sweetened by the sweat
And labor of beautiful women,
Toiling in the sun of another time.
The vintner will say that wine
Gains it's flavor from weather,
Soil and cask, and when stars align
In God's own heaven. Whether
'Tis true I know not.
Nor, honestly, do I care a jot.
Left to ferment, natural sugar gone, the sweat sweetness still
Remains, turned to lovely red wine.
In dreams always will
I taste the sweet sweat of labor from another time.
Copyright Don Smith 2010