A Paradoxical Vineyard

A Paradoxical Vineyard
In the Midwest, it is uncommon
to find someone who strolls through vineyards.
I am one of the few,
who takes leisurely steps
between rows of fruit and flora.
Each vine stands tied,
much like a crucified partisan,
blindly following orders
while attempting to maintain inherent desires.
These genetic yearnings,
unknowingly thwarted
with the removal of tender clusters
for not entirely ulterior motives.
They suffer hardships.
They fall and freeze and die.
They are eaten and scorched.
But for those that survive,
we are grateful.
For those that endure,
we do our best to protect them.
Their life allows for an appreciation,
of beauty and libation,
which grapevines will never understand.

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Published by: cynicalwordsmith

I am, by no means, a professional writer. I have no dreams of becoming such. I just enjoy writing in my very sparse free time, both poetry and short stories. If you enjoy any of my works in particular, feel free to tell me. I always enjoy the feedback.

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