Sweet Grapes At Last

Fifteen years the vines have twisted and stretched out

to cover the trellis my husband and I shirred up,

in hopes of getting a goldmine of homegrown grapes.

Over those hopeful years our hopes have mounted

and dashed,

for at the end of the lazy summer,

the cool Autumn yielded barely a live Concord grape.

Five years ago we dug up the old and planted the new

in hopes of reviving our hopes and dreams

of Concord grape jelly and

laying inclined to feed each other grapes of love.

A year ago today,

in my low-point,

I grabbed my pruning shears

and hacked at the vine intensely,

cursing one moment,

encouraging the next,

and finally singing a nurturing lullaby.

Into the wood adjacent are the vine remains

that have produced several homemade wreaths,

one of which is nestled nearby my wagon wheel,

on display. The other sent to a sister in Florida,

who longs for sentiments from a deserted NH home.

On our chair-swing I relaxed yesterday

while the sun began to fall from the sky,

my husband mowing the orchard where

apples and peaches and raspberries adorn.

There's grapes, he yelled, and off I ran

to distinguish the fake grapes I'd hung up

from the plump purple Concord grapes God grew.

Aaaaaaa!

Dangling down and about to burst

hung a dozen or more clusters,

some shriveled and brown,

but among them the survivors

who had beaten the odds and prospered!

Into my shirt I collected the crop

and dashed inside our house

to wash and squish the Concord grapes

into a cup that caught the all-natural juice.

A mere half a cup of liquid emerged

from the clump of seeds and discarded skins,

amid seeds and pulp thrown away

came away a half cup of grape-gold

that I coveted and protected.

I ran out to my hardworking husband

to share, sip by tiny sip,

the fruits of our labor,

the reward for our faithfulness,

the sweetest grape juice ever gifted.

What shall the sixteenth year bring,

I wonder, as I compare this crop

to my seventeen year marriage.

Oh! Wonderful, sweet heaven

that merges sun and rain and

produces harmonious love on the pallet...