Poems ✍️

Once upon a time,
Jesus, who called himself the true vine,
turned water into wine
in an act of love.

All over the world, right now,
a million grape vines
are performing the same miracle

slowly; silently; aided by the sun;
their roots, like farmers, coal or diamond miners,
searching in the earth
for the most precious;

it doesn’t hit the headlines
but who dares say
a patient, silent, unsung love
is any less a miracle?

Who dares say that grape vines
do not seek and love
their beautiful perfection?

miracles, an act of love;
love, that miracle unearned –

what may we do to earn, to drink,
that wine of Love, but love?

*

[with a bow to Hafiz]