Tasting

The art of sipping this wine
is a subtle discipline:

the rule is only

one glass at a time.

Each breath is enough

to inebriate both

body and soul.

Was it your heart or mine

that was a cup

for the other's lips?

Was I the host

and you the guest,

or vice versa?

And who pays the bill?

The secret is,

we don't have to settle.

The tip is incalculable
anyway.

O God, we go reeling

out of this tavern.

Here's my shoulder,

give me your arm.

My devotion to your path

will keep us both

from stumbling.

And here's my chest
with its broken gate
wide open.
I'll make sure you get home.