Hometown # 4

 By Ernie Carpenter                                                                      

Now all around,

Grapes abound,

apples once found.

Wine economically sound,

A farm jewel crown.

That juice so fine,

Wherever you dine,

Comes Sonoma wine.

Over yonder by the trail,

Under the overpass,

In the forest, by the vineyard,

Near the River,

Your ‘hood, airport, sidewalk,

Drainageway,

They camp in soggy squalor. Garbage

Strewn about, unwashed mass,

They cling to each other

Like a ripe cluster of old zin,

Deep purple,

earthy, a certain royalty.

What you say?

How can it be, in this land of plenty?

In the land of castles and chateaus,

Gingham shirts,

Salmon puffs,

Happy cow cheese balls,

Wine maker extraordinal.

When the homeless lady

Craps on the waiting ground,

The gilded chandelier,

Wine finery,

La salle de bain, does it weep?

The mother in her tent

Cries softly each night.

How this weary plight?

The Chef pops the cork

On a sparkling cuvee of

Alexander Valley bubbly,

Server ladles bisque around,

“The prime rib is rare,

Pear and walnut salad all local,

And, all for your delight,

Salud, and bon appetite.”

                     ©Ernieman, Sebastopol, Ca. 2019

                                                                                                                                                                                                   

PHOTO:  by Jonsey.   
"Mary" age 61 & her dog "Daisy May" living on  the Joe Rodota Trail
Santa Rosa,California 12-5-19