Winds fan these verdant hills again
In Napa valley's Northern reaches
Far away from surfing beaches
Crackles soundtrack smoke-filled sky;
Outlying district firemen try
To beat the flames which still persist
To burn late vineyards to a crisp.
Many grapes are garnered in
For those who waited – deep chagrin
Fire leaps up vine-filled slopes
Devastating vintners' hopes.
Well-drained and neatly planted rows
No match for a wind that blows
Bringing havoc in its wake
Death stalks abroad – and no mistake...
'It's an ill-wind' goes the phrase;
Nature has such violent ways
Is this global warming, or a blip?
To ponder on, when next we sip!
(c) Poet in the woods 2017
And now again in October 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment