"Harvest.
And it was along the white lane/ a green appearing of vineyards/ leafy, in the gold/ of the October sun: a falling/ of bunches of grapes well swollen,/ well dense with vivid juice,/ sweet blood, sweet honey,/ into the capacious baskets./ And there were songs, songs/ of fresh young grape harvesters/ the baskets erect on their heads/ amidst the eternal beauty of the sky/ and the eternal goodness of the earth."
Created by d'Araprì