Michael's Wine by Sandra Alcosser - Poems | Academy of American Poets
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Winter again and we want
Winter again and we want the same nocturnal rocking, watching cedar spit and sketch its leafy flames, our rooms steamy with garlic and greasy harvest stew. Outside frosted windows-- claw marks on yellow pine, Venus wobbling in the sky, the whole valley a glare of ice. We gather in the kitchen to make jam from damsons and blue Italian prunes, last fruit of the orchard, sweetest after frost, frothy bushels steeping in flecked enamel pots. Michael, our neighbor, decants black cherry wine, fruit he ground two years ago, bound with sugar, then racked and racked again. It's young and dry. We…
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