On the one hand..... br Clusters of sour grapes, a jet trail overhead, br His, a cloud of suspicion, a cocktail of the unknown. br A skeleton of scarecrow stood as sentry, and time br And the Vintner closed their eyes and went to bed. br Helpless the grapes as the vines drooped and bled. br br In the making.... br Of procrastinations, some wariness, some br Fatigue, oversight was lost, so too desire br To labor in the fields, to reap the bounty br Hard work comes with effort, but in the journal br He kept, that page was sadly missing. br br br On the other hand... br A cluster of storm clouds, the sky turned red.... br She, with back unbroken, gathered both the br Sweet with the sour, left some that were dead. br And with nary a glance at the past, held a foot br Stomping party and with effort made wine. br br In the making... br And tasting of wine, some effort needed, br Some skill heeded, so too, the bad weather. br Like a mother caring for her children, br Promise encouraged as to her offspring br Sweet wine tips now its glass to her smile.