(_{Vineyard Whisperer)}

Intoxicated by the Light,

I cannot resist It resting in my throat,

waiting in the Waiting for another Sip.

This Vineyard Press is death- wrenching. We used to be here to quench a glass of thirst,

now It crushes into me, these Vineyard Whispers: like a Cup thirsting for me, to thirst for Its Quenching.

_{The Vineyard Keeper gives me Space in His Garden, a Lent, a Leaning in this season of my soul, with the Whisper.}

_{Photographs Unsplash}