My Grandfather's Grape Shed

[Lykren]

The dark, twining vines -
now as then damp
with flowering rainwater -
clasp, unleaf, burst
with ecstatic resonance
the restraints of time.
Though winter’s shock
and patterns of dismay
withhold illumination,
there is this,
the thousand woven,
folded signals
through which light streaks
from different hours,
days and years,
youth’s fine line
superceding nothing,
but surviving,
changing, fruiting.

[NikolaiI]

Very beautiful poem, and enjoyable. Inspiring to write, too. :-)

thank you for this.

[Lykren]

You're very welcome!