Haiku Rosso y Bianco

The fruit of the vine

and holiest of spirits,

grapes crushed and then aged.


Wrestle with the cork,

dust the bottle and then pour.

Life within a glass.


Redder still than blood

but not half so coppery,

sweet, dry, full-bodied.


Never white as snow

But far clearer and more pure,

sharp, sparkling, and light.


An empty bottle

signals sadness and good times.

You never forget.



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