Wine O Clock

The end of another week and we hear
the clock strike the slow easing of the cork
as the suction lets go to the song of
that smooth pop of wood and glass departing.
As the muscles in our bodies begin
to stretch, contract, break and crack, making the
air tingle with the tension releasing,
as red and white pour into clean glasses
and the ethereal breath sighs with us.
“It must be wine o clock,” smiles my Grandma.

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