Vineyard Hills

The vine rows
trace the hills of McLaren Vale;
Bacchanalian grapes grow,
happy on the vine,
waiting for the day
they are called upon
to perform their part in the play.
I sit, relaxed by the bottle,
gazing over the vineyard hills
that are as gracefully curved
as the gentle glass
that holds my dark red
and I think to myself:
I’d like to be a grape on the vine
amidst these brown and green painted valleys,
that I might slip
in one form or another
into your hands, your mouth
to stain your lips, teeth,
to give a soft glow
to your mind’s day
like this lovely vintage
of Shiraz has given me.

Dan Johnson is originally from New Jersey in America and now lives in Adelaide’s southern suburbs bordering the McLaren Vale wine region. He plays lacrosse for the Woodville Warriors, one of Australia’s premier lacrosse clubs, and has had his poetry published in Ireland, America and now Australia.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.