The Distillery

It was a long road to get there
full of switchbacks, speed bumps, dead-ends
the weary traveler enters in
and a rough look on my face,
torn jeans, dirty boots,
but I think I found the place.

Lush valley full of echoes
and a fog that settles in.

You danced on soft worn floors
I sat near the side,
a flowered cotton dress
on such a grey-eyed mess
I knew I was in for a ride.

Down at the distillery
At the bottom of the hill
The fires still burn brightly
But the candle never will

Balance and swing,
a gypsy’s call to souls
a rush of color blurred by flight
Later I ran to greet you,
carrying elderberry wine
and my shining eyes
caught yours winking in the light.
That courting candle, could it burn bright?

That creek was cold and clear
My bare feet flat on rocks
I let waterfalls rush over me
and never thought of fear.

Lush valley full of echoes
and a fog that settles in.

Down at the distillery
At the bottom of the hill
The fires still burn brightly
But the candle never will

And the still’s cold tin walls
press on my skin.
Volumes of our time,
this filter I am in
pure sweet taste
down to one bitter drop
swallow it now and be done.

Two sentences on paper
An ocean behind us,
a desert ahead,
one candle wick cold
cheap wine and rye whiskey
was all that was ever made.