Thursday, September 6, 2012


                                         WINE HARVEST
                                    ripe concord grapes–
                                    in the backyard a contest
                                    of spitting skins

It is a hot day in early September.  My grandfather picks grapes from the arbor to make wine.  My sister and I are told to stay out of his way and out of trouble.  Grandpa’s paisan arrives with additional grapes to supplement the backyard harvest, and they work together.  By late afternoon several baskets stand in even rows.  My mother will take one basket for jelly.  The rest will be pressed into juice, strained, bottled and stored in the cellar.

                                         sweat on his brow–
                                      he brushes cobwebs
                                      from last year’s bottle

Contemporary Haibun On-line, Spring 2011

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Bill said...

Has the rich feeling of the well-remembered. You left out the second "c" in "concord."

Adelaide said...

Thanks, Bill. My eyes see what I expect it to see.


Frank... said...

A lovely memory of your grandfather, Adelaide...

Adelaide said...

Thank you, Frank.