Mr. Bojanower: a poem about life & wine
Northwest tones
of oaks and greens,
inside these walls
of posts and beams,
our family dreams
of laughs and grinds
inside the French press
of our minds.
-
Wide blinds open
upon Mount Hood
and Madrona's vines
beyond the woods.
Black Labs bark
beside the fence.
The Mexicans
are recompensed,
vendange verte-
to pick young grapes.
An American
with all at stake
has passed away
in his sleep
without a taste
of what he's reaped.
Fifty acres
for fine wine.
He owned it all
but lost to time.
Below the earth
He feeds the grapes.
With his death
new life escapes.
© 2013 Leone Vidoni
