Napa Poem by Michael Walker

Green draperies caress her breasts of gold,
Wineries' greenery on holy hay,
Her beauty ever new, yet ever old,
That leads us to the Life, the Truth, the Way.

Her verdant pastures lie near waters still,
Where Nausicaa could frolick in the nude,
Or Guadalupe ask her Son to fill
Amphoras with the wine His Blood imbued.

O Napa, paramour of Paradise!
Roses and grapes still grace your tilma hills,
The indigo of blood that paid the price
To inherit the land on which it spills.

O Vine Divine, may my limp sprig bear fruit,
That my life might have been worth Your pursuit.