Leading Along The Streams Until Evening Poem by Jason PraTT

To cross the sea, vines along the shores in profusion
Trimmed high harvest time on meat galore and wine
Lush for the plow that what hull with confusion
So many savages stab at the liquor in one’s spine

None of the overcast amongst sunset of the gathering dusk
Above the ripples of solitude at the end of the bay
Cradling goatskin and a polished silver wine bowl
Beneath the gospel oak, where rumors tend to prey

Two dozen embers scattered to the far distance
High overhead a slab of the heaving rocks
Wagons in pastures around the thundering point
With vessels filled with doorsills and defected locks

At evening came the fuddle and the flush and evening drinks were poured
An olive whistle from the dark of coyotes in cordial gifts
Chopped along the caverns at the mountain’s revealed belly
As the wine grapes spew a bit of orchid nectar and ambrosia to fruit