a moral tale, for: Sauternes, the fungus
cenaria, and the wild old
Never prophesy.
You can’t. So don’t try.
Lust, pride, and lethargy
may cause us misery
or bliss.
The meanest mistake
has a point to make.
Hear this—
what the vintner d’Eyquem said
once his lord d’Eyquem was dead:
”The wine that year promised bad or none.
He’d let it go too late.
Rot had crawled through all the vines,
greasy scum on every cluster
dangling at the crotches of the leaves.
Should have been long picked
but he’d said, “No. Wait for me,”
off to wait on a new woman,
grapes on the verge of ripe
when he left. Coupling kept him
till rot wrapped the grapes like lace
& by the time she’d kicked him out
the sun had got them, they hung
shriveled in the blast.
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