Wednesday, January 31


You hand me a crystal goblet
filled to the brim
with priceless wine
rich and full-bodied
fragrant with sun and earth
and vine-ripened grape.

I take it in trembling hands
wanting not to waste a drop.

Spirito affine…look closer,
the goblet you hold
is not of fragile crystal
but an alabaster font
forged in the breast of the Mother

tender shoots
planted in fertile soil
need but the gentle hand of the vintner
and the caress of the sun to yield

Spirito affine…make haste!
gather ye oaken casks
whilst an endless harvest
swells on the vine

Spirito affine…be not afraid
for a drop spilt on the ground
is but an alleluia to the Creator

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