Mystic Wines Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

MYSTIC WINES

On blissful, misty evenings in boons of late July,
I would scamper down diamond-studded dunes,
Beneath a turquoise confusion of full, ecstatic moons.
And I slept near campfires watching blue comets fly.

I drank from the firmament potent, mystic wines.
I swam in pelagic brines where cathedral bells would ring.
In my raptures I heard choruses of silver Sirens sing,
And I awoke to billowing hymns and oceanic chimes.

John Lars Zwerenz