Wine for the Gods

Falling.
Spinning in a wild satellite orbit,
Towards the Ground,
Captured in a slow motion pose.
Scarlet sphere of a natural perfection.
Striking down into the red pool,
Cascade of crimson hue follows impact,
Like the explosion of fireworks
On a cold November night.
Fascinating – even hypnotic.
Next sphere in descent,
I place my wine glass below it.
Scarlet stains adorn glass base,
Hits the wine, spread of fire,
Like the glory of the sunrise.
Capturing your slow spilling blood,
Infusing you into my wine.
I shall become intoxicated
Upon your love,
My darling.

© November 1990, A M Boylan