The Vineyard

An acrostic poem about growing grapes in the vineyard

Vines atwining up toward the sun
In a quiet fertile dale
Nurturing till the grapes are done
Endowed with life, fit and hale
Yearly progression towards the wine
Aroma, sugars, produce the cru
Ripened, time to press them fine
Drink slowly of that which nature grew

Copyright 2009 - Mindy Makuta (aka MyFairLadyah)
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