Cool breeze riling
the curtains

the green seclusion
of a melon

summer is a visitor
more than anything else

evasive
as that dream

right upon waking, cut
as it was ripening

.

In the yard we drank
a thin tempranillo

a dragonfly hung by
with mirage wings

and rhubarb stalks wilted
in omnipotent heat

no silence is alike
varietals and temperaments

and these the hands
of a graceless vinter

.

Still light late
warm skin

the remainder of the day
eyes still stinging

from wine country grass
the ground leached heat

it and time in a bottle
a twenty-twelve cab

a good year
but so is any

really just
for having been