When you are near
Pulsing and shimmering
In my breath at dawn
I can’t help but feel like those
Huge wine jars at the wedding feast
Full to the brim and spilling over.
The wine and the jars both intoxicated
With longing for the Beloved
Yet unable to speak a word or sing a note.
Pitchers dipped in their meditation
Pour only the finest vintage
From the vineyard of your ecstasy.
It is only later
When I am in a field or wood
I see you again, Divine Winemaker
Becoming the wine and that servant
Who can’t stop pouring and filling,
Pouring and filling.