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Swirling As wine in a glass To aerate, to breathe That the terroir and the vintage and the winemaker Can mean as much as each individual grape Each sigh Every word Raised and pressed...
Tagged: wine
Writers and wine have a long history. Wine finds its way not only in their stomachs but in their work quite often. Here are all articles and fiction works that use wine as a tool.
Another Mother’s Day?
Haibun Mom washed, curled, brushed and hairsprayed. Then she applied makeup and lipstick. For the first time in weeks, she looks like she always does when she goes out in public. She loses her...
Relaxing into Another Weekend
Haibun Mira hands me a full glass of Chianti. “Happy Friday!” We clank glasses as we toast. I take my first sip. Dark wood taste explodes on my tongue. I lie back on the...
Vineyard Visit
Haibun A patio of filled tables and empty bottles. A trio plays the Beatles, the lead singer tapping a tambourine against her thigh. We stopped at the Torne Valley Vineyard on the way back...
Give Me A Cigarette
Poem Give me a cigarette, you! Know, I never smoked before Don’t trust me? It’s true Give me a glass of wine, bro. Why? Silence, no one is around but the smoke and...
Slow Travel: An Amateur Drinks Wine
Non-Fiction I am no expert on Wine. In a blind taste test, I probably wouldn’t able to distinguish one wine from another, one vintage from another, or one grape from another. Neither would I...
Silent Night, Silent Day
Haibun Something in the way she drives. Her left hand, turned up, turned down, on and off the steering wheel. Her steely eyes, centered on the road. The 40 MPH sprints on the side...
The Smuggs Chronicle, Part Twelve
Haibun Twelfth Day: August 29, 2013 The day’s weather wears “a thousand faces.” Patches of blue sky and sun follow gray skies and rain. The day screams, “Pursue indoor activities!” We listen and head...
The Smuggs Chronicle, Part Eleven
Haibun Eleventh Day: August 28, 2013 Mira and I walk resort trails. We pass a bears and berries walk up the road to Notchville Park, heading toward the reservoir. Blue, plastic maple syrup sap...
The Smuggs Chronicle, Part Ten
Haibun Tenth Day: August 27, 2013 We’re in a booth at 158 Main. Mira’s first cup of coffee is so full that she can’t add milk. Our breakfast arrives. My first bite of pancake...
Another Aftermath
Haibun Bird songs, as I awake ahead of the alarm Headache: fruit of the prior day’s tension— or that extra glass of Burgundy Or another gift from that beloved team teacher I work through...
That Thing That Never Happened – Part Two
Serial Story “You ever had tapas?” I asked. We’d been wandering around the city for a while and we both could use a sitdown. “I have. But that sounds nice.” she said. “The...
