Pinot Noir

We drank a lot of Pinot Noir that night,

the preferred drink of the cardiganed types (they said),

but we reveled in it, stranded here in the fuselage.

Brave (you said), and juicy like raspberries.

We toasted each other, and then our aspirations, unaccomplished,

oh, but we were still willing to fumble through the wreckage.

We stuffed a white candle in the neck of the bottle;

simple elegance (I said), and we watched the flame

sputter in the dark.

Published by

Steven Baird

Writer, amateur photographer, ad compositor and chicken herder.

6 thoughts on “Pinot Noir”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s