The Japanese Wine Spirit Poem

Cory W. Morrel

Is it just a conscription of the hummingbirds in the surrogate house

of the Samauri? Or the fruit of berries to eat for nourishment in the

gardens of Gensho? The pandas roam the wilderness in the mountains of Fuji. Padded the spot on a flag of Japan party in Tokyo the wine

of the taste of Marco Polo's visiting journey across to China of Pino Grigio.

The blood of the Katsuo is the Harvest of the hunting season.

Stay warm in a cold winter January season by the heater hot spring

kata Tzu. Steaks on grills, onions frying on stoves, and potatoes on skillets

making Shikibobs chop suey sliced and minced with the swords of katanas.

Sais and skewers holding food tasting a delight with a meal a sample of the Takahata winery. Women and Men light lanterns in their kimonos hanging lit them toro cochins. A new year has risen blessings of broad new beginnings flying cranes of overhead the building restaurants of Fukushima

and Hiroshima, toasting the land of the rising sun its 2025 fine

preserved vintage.