Thought of this poem today from my book "Mindless Wanderings & Other Such Nonsense", as I passed an old door on my way to pick up some milk.
8pm, Thursday, 22 April 2010, Sicily
Vito Spinezza stood looking out at the evening sky through the open glass doors leading onto his veranda.
In his hand he held and nursed a glass of dark red wine, his pride and joy, made with his own grapes from his own vineyards below. He could feel the sensation and tingling of the alcohol in his mouth.
It had been a good harvest last year.
Great news! Managed to get the book up on Apple Books℠ which means it is now available in just about every country in the world!