Moonshine Melody

2019-01-05 21.49.25

The whiskey barrels are
shouldering shadows,
their hot, sour-sweet savor
breathing up into crisply chill
starlit air
and pressing warmly
like a cellist’s
fine fingertips
as she softly saws a
falling-leaf lullaby
with moonwash gentleness;
and where the faint fluorescence
blooms from lightbulbs above,
portals open with pallid light between
stacks of distilled
spirits
and their nostalgic
nocturnes.