There’s a satisfying “thump”
As a bunch of grapes you dump
Into a yellow plastic bucket
On a sunny afternoon.
There’s a feeling of achievement
When you cause a grape bereavement
Because you tore it from its vineyard
And it will be grape juice soon.
There’s a warmth that lingers on
Your neck until the dawn:
It’s a sunburn you predicted
But did nothing to prevent.
One of these lasts longer,
Is visible, and is stronger
And I’ll think about it next time
Before to picking I consent.
The Daily Travesty 