Vega Sicilia

Jul 20, 2009

There is a landscape in this glass
Fallen earth

Diving past my lips
Anchored on
The warm plain of
My tongue
Sun-dusted trees
And cool nights.

There is a desert
A lonely summer
Singeing the fingertips
Of white soil.
Naked heights
Of slopes
Where the nectar sleeps
In bunches.

The night is long
Wavering into memories
Long ago armies,
El Cid standing guard
An ancient
Watchman from the
Other world,
While below,
Wearing a frayed gown,
A woman runs to
Meet the one she loves

We are searching for ghosts.

These vines
Standing crucified
Under a sky rising
Swimmer drenched
With stars.

And this woman,
These castles with their
Old men smoking
Waiting in courtyards
After the harvest
Fill the air, their rugged
Cheeks and her open
Eyes aching with fright
All of them imparting more
Questions, more far
Away wonder and pleas.

The man she loved was
Once a child and in a
Bed not too far away
In time, he had
A nightmare,
The old god
Run through, torn to shreds
Limb by limb
Like his vines
How his sister returned
With his bleeding heart,

Where did they plant the
First god?

Where is her lover?
Her footsteps swallowed
By the road,
Other armies came and
The old men shuffle
Off the night

The far scent
Of those hours, the layer
Of twin worlds, past and
Present emanating in
Black circles
Resting in
my glass.

- Robert Broerse [July 20, 2009]


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My focus is mainly on wine culture, history and education. I love the stories behind wine - the people, places and the regional personalities of the wine-countries around the world.

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