Russ Heinrich is a Barossa Valley resident who has spent most of his working life in and around wineries – an experience reflected in this week’s featured poem.

Glory be to these

They lie crushed.
Broken.
Their life’s blood squeezed from their being.
Only hours before, alive, vibrant,
basking gently beneath nature’s dappled canopy.
Given up for the enjoyment of those who seek
the finer things,
the more subtle things in life.
Given up so that the unknown winemaker
can state his presence,
make his mark
and offer up to all the fruits of his endeavours.
To taste though, is to visualise
the farmers,
the vignerons,
the forgotten souls.
The ones who tend the crop
in the bitter cold of winter,
the hottest of the summer.
the ones who give their all to nurture the vines.
To provide us with the time honoured flavours.
Year in, year out.
So that the few
can aspire to glory.

Russ Heinrich lives in the Barossa Valley where he is an engineering projects manager with a large winery. He generally writes humorous poems for the amusement of family and friends, but is tiring rapidly of the phrase: “You’re a poet and don’t know it.” Having grown up in New Guinea, he then settled back in the Barossa and finally considers himself a local. He is indeed married to a local, in whose family-run vineyards Russ has seen first-hand the work involved in every facet of the wine industry.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems up to 30 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.