To learn to make wine I’d ferment
one-hundred liters or so a year
of fresh crushed grape juice, awaiting
patiently end-results that took months, years
to be realized; to accelerate the process I
switched to twice a year, Californian, Italian,
and French in Autumn, Chilean in Spring. More lessons
learned in less time.

With the roses, as with the berries, I’ve reaped
the benefit of having pruned canes, correctly and wrongly,
season after season. to learn first-hand – empirically – what
grows when and where and what doesn’t. How many blossoms have I denied
by being too cavalier, too quick with a snip here and there?

Unlike you, whom I have waited for for longer than I believe
I know you, watching your four seasons blow in, billow sail
and take you away, over never the same course,
the same year, only one year, without
having that once again.

And so so many questions unasked,
so many good turns undone.

Chagall 2018

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