cask and mask

in snowcrowned cupola

huddle wintering bats

ocean breezes bless

Hemingway’s hundred cats

as snowsleigh glides

in frozen flats

sandsleigh sails

to mouth of rats

some bundled up

in scarves and knitted hats

while others stroll

in flippy-floppy flats

and too our hearts

in all their varied climes

from frigid freeze

to where ice sublimes

we each have our seasons

but sometimes

no reasons or rhymes

whether rollercoastered realms

of depression and mania

weigh like lead upon our seasons

catacombs cast in lead dead dread

bathed and steeped in flavored biles

buoyed by brief bouty blimps of oy

masquerading as moments of joy

or ephemeral tugs and flights

of sorrow and euphoria

grow like grape-weighted vines

wandering and weaving

through our minds’ arboria

let us take bottled tears

of vintage years

and kegs of beers

of dark-hued fears

cries and despair

breaths of fresh air

and frowns and smiles

uncork the cask

remove the mask

let us share our tears and joys

each in our own vineyard’s styles

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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