Magpie 310/Grapes

(image courtesy of Magpie Tales)

Grapes

There comes a time, early, when toast and jelly are a sacrament,
Peanut butter and jelly, too; you are too young for wine
But know your prayers by evening and table, young enough
To see the morning in all its stages: bed to car to school.

Grape juice, too, reminds you of ties that bind, cold grape soda
Sacralizes summer on the cusp of the driveway, bare feet warm
Against the concrete stubble and bicycles circling the block,
You remember yours, blue and white, flying you home.

Now, you hope that those days, that belief, stain you well,
Far faster than purple dye on cotton; that once for all works
In life as well as prayer, because you haven’t tasted grape juice
Or flown with angels and mosquitos since you lived there.