At the end of a crowded table

You stand, a proud, uncorked Montefalco Rosso,
A sinewy Italian red raised on an Umbrian hillside
Where Etruscans dined before the Romans ruled.
You are a hometown vintage, until recently a stranger to our American shores,
Smooth as silk with roots steeped in the soil of history.
Half-drunk, giddy with anticipation,
You have journeyed far to be with us tonight at our gathering.
You speak few words yet inspire all of us with your thirst for love and poetry.

Rosalind Resnick

May 10, 2016