Poem - Gathering Purple, Evelyn J. Steward [buy e reader .txt] 📗

Gathering Purple


From the vineyard comes the flagon
filled with luscious deep red wine.
On the hillside, bright green dragon,
keeping watch o'er leaf and vine.

Fashioned he, from wood and metal,
glass, and slate of Tuscan red.
Stands him firm, the lonely chattel,
guarding, as we dream a'bed.

Purple berries, ripe, a'waiting
careful hands at gather time.
For the presser, grinding, grating,
ripened grapes from off the vine.

Taste us now, the liquid harvest,
quaffing cups, we toast with song,
giving praise for sun and tempest,
merrily we dance along.

Go we forth within the vineyard.
Banners flying. Swords are drawn.
Seeking out the lonely vanguard,
misty figure in the dawn.

Care we not for tongues of fire
so we challenge, gustily.
Bright eyes glinting with desire,
as we charge him, mightily.

Moves him not, the lonely dragon.
Laughing faces all a'glow,
supping wine from out the flagon.
Stands him firm along the row.

When the 'morrow comes a'dawning,
sweat within our labours, spent.
There is solace in that morning,
late arising, heads well bent.

Dragon, tinged with rusty redness.
Impotent, it stands forlorn.
Frosted in its Winter sadness,
waiting Spring, and earth reborn.

© Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. May, 1997.

Publication Date: 11-11-2010

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