Summer Merlot

Summer Merlot

Summer again and we want
The same emotional silence,
Watching cacti bloom
And sketch the poignant hues,
Our lives pregnant with problems
And uneasy natural delusions.
Outside hazy mountains-
Snake trails low on the desert floor,

Yucca basking in the heat
The whole valley a stifling oven.
We gather on the patio
To cook salmon from the river,
And cool off in the shade,
Final gathering of the year
Sweetest before Independence Day
Steeped in annual tradition.

Sheila, our neighbor
Uncorks a special Merlot aged
In oak barrels ten years ago
Sweetened with time, un-corked
Then corked again. It’s ripe and smooth
We raise our glasses, our fortune,
Savor the moment together.

My son died this day last year,
Says Sheila, while we were toasting,
Celebrating the holiday.
He knew the Humvee was dangerous,
Especially on the triangle road of death,
You know the one where Sunnis plant bombs,
In dead horses and human corpses?
He didn’t see bomb before it exploded.

Could’ve been anyone’s soldier.
Nineteen years old, a simple boy,
A mere child. He never saw it coming.
Thank God for the favor. We stand there
Grape-stained as Sheila’s eyes
Tear over into a dark river.
She caresses her wine and sobs.
Sheila with no living children,

Trembling mother’s hand, lifts the bottle
Pours a glass, as if to toast
It was so dark, she says,
That when I heard the news,
She slowly sips the mellow Merlot
On the shady patio, that my life
Disappeared and I swallowed myself
Like the wine in my crystal glass.