Under the influence

I walk the lanes, straight-lined
collide with coloured, coupling
butterflies, merging wing-on-wing.
Blackthorns, decked in boozy blossom,
overspill and froth
where songbirds syncopate on high,
fever-flushed with Spring.

In this everyday exuberance,
communion’s hosted
minus the sweet red wine.

yet I’m still imbibing miracles.

Just 44 words for Linda's quadrille prompt: Wine
-  which also gave rise to some plant poetry that I'm now adding to my garden blog: Muscari