The winepress

Your soul trades

in peacetime coins

in rural

comfort blankets.

Your stomach

feels the touches

of trees made

in Georgian times

to line paths

with screens of green.

Your brain stops

the seed crushing

and genes start

motors, switching

on flowers,

turning off dregs.

Your heart feels

the new proteins

that control

the wine-making

in your mind

and your tastebuds.

Saps overcome

with pleasing casts

in your plays

that ferment grapes

and place yeast

in neat bottles.

Your soul trades

in peacetime coins

in rural

comfort blankets.