Dear reader, another one from that scribe from the near north. From the man who goes by the name ‘Geoff’. On a biographical note, Geoff’s interest in natural history and photography marks him as an individual of refined character, so is his taste in reds. This poem goes to the heart of the matter. Because a good red, and the appreciation therein is all heart.

And we must remind the more budget conscious amongst our readership that the best red  money can buy may be purchased at any budget supermarket that has its origins in Germany. Though we are loathe to plug private enterprise we highly reccomend the ‘El Toro Macho’, competitively priced a $5.95. A wine of scintillating variety that combines, piquant essence of grape, with a fair dollop of dust.

 

We are indebted to the Imperial War Museum London for their generous donations of “Wine themed” pictures. Each celebrates a gallant Imperial episode of wine making amongst heathens, savages and those unanointed by “the gift of Civilisation”.

 

On to you Geoff,

 

A Good Red

Here’s to you, old friend

Been around awhile

Celebrating life and loss and everything in between

With me

 

Not necessarily the best choice, your company

Not the worst

Anytime dinner companion

But I’ll choose you anyway

 

The good and the not so good, your poison

And quite a few mornings along the way

Wish I’d never met you 

For other reasons too, mostly selfish

 

Take away the edge of the day that’s been

Sometimes the line

Between letting it go, or not

Choosing to fight or just sit it out

 

Social lubricant, if I let you do it your way

But sometimes prefer to be alone

Mellow, with myself 

And two for good measure

 

The choice of the gods, you were

Still are

For us mere mortals

And will be; for as long as man has need.