Editor Andrew Arnott
Andrew studied Literature and Sociology at UCT before setting off on a global trek that saw him working under the seas of the Caribbean, on the snow covered slopes of the Canadian Rockies and writing for a variety of financial and travel institutions. Now at home in Cape Town, Andrew’s passions for wine and writing are married on this blog.
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Time Manner Place by Bruce Jack Posted on October 14 2012 by
Time, Manner, Place in rhythm, meter and intonation by Bruce Jack.
Night-cooled vine leaf
Beneath your fingertip.
Granite crunch underfoot
Flusters a family of Guinea Fowl,
Down the vineyard row.
High on this mountainside,
All is otherwise
Soon the sun will chase,
Deep into steep kloofs,
Leopards, dew and owl eyes.
You bend into the green canopy –
Plucking a bunched-in black berry.
Closing your eyes
To focus taste,
Like pre-dawn purple sky,
Spinning sweetly around your mouth,
Bright with raspberry of slope,
And tied into tannin –
That roguish torque of soil.
Then warming daybreak on your back,
Beckons a Berg Wind down,
Smelling wryly of Buchu,
Warning of dry mid-day dust.
Many years later, well after sunset,
This night-black wine of autumn toil
Opens like a war drum,
Towards the stars,
And seasoning with prayer flags
Rooms of everyday things.
With a finger tip,
You tenderly complete
A wine-whet circle
Around the rim,
Of your night-cooled glass.