Foot 4
By Paul Burney

He didn’t know the land —
layer upon layer of minerals
deposited in bygone eras.

He didn’t know the vines —
their long tendrils hustling
nutrients from the soil below.

He didn’t know the grapes —
filled by the sun’s warmth,
sweetened till bursting.

He didn’t know the pulping —
crushing and transforming,
fermenting and transcending.

He didn’t know the cask —
softening and settling,
preparing for the bottle.

He didn’t know what he was missing —
until popping out that cork,
letting the smooth liquid fill him.

At last he knew the wine —
from the gentle bouquet
to the luscious swallow.

At last he knew joy.

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