First Taste of Wine
The Cassells
cellar
Oh.
Really
A cellar
Earthen-floored
Must-scented
Raven-aired
Grandma
Annie Cass-sells
and ten-year-old
me
We heave
away worn wooden doors
Throwing daylight
underground
Pick our way
down brick slab steps
Let our eyes
adjust
Then I follow
her
En route for
wooden plank
shelves against one wall.
She stretches
toward a dusty jug
Pours a half-pint
jelly jar
One-quarter full
Pronouncing “grape
juice” and
Taking a
sip.
Passing the jelly
jar to me
She cautions
“Just a
little now.
It makes you
feel all warm inside.”
Her eager
knobby
fingers reach
for the jar
as it leaves
my lips.
