Harvest of the Heart

By Charlie Gittins (he/him)

I do not choose the finest grapes

only what is found in my garden

plucked by my own hands,

grown from my own soil

nothing is imported from France or Belgium

no fine new machinery helps me on my way

all the same I have been brewing

this chaotic act of creation

I have taken something that could have been complete

and put it through fermentation

Everything but the catalyst comes from me

my backyard conception

then I am left to trust in nature

find faith in waiting

and it takes so much time and patience

some days it feels like my hands are always dirty

Like I am always thirsty for something that never

comes

But just out of sight something incredible is happening

that will bring more joy than any fruit or water

when the days of packed soil under my nails

and hands filled with splinters

will leave me sitting back laughing and drinking in

everything I thought could be just a bit better