The OenoPhilologist’s Gist

It embodies tranquility, poetry, true Equilibrium.  Up early 2morrow morning.  Lovely.  Back2Napa, to exist in the wine’s true quarter.  Is that a dart at Sonoma’s side?  Of course not.  I’m typing on Sonoma’s mountain lean.  Thinking about the tasting Room.  Won’t fib, I miss it.  This Sunday, my birthday.  You’d expect me to take the day’s total.  but I’ll be clocked.  Pouring, writing.  Working, for the novel.  It’s almost done.  Each page, indebted to wine, wineries, their winemakers.  Wine writing, not blandly paginating wine reactions.  This wine, revolving me with predictability’s lack.  My instabilities stack.  Let me out of the barrel.  Meant 2B feral.