Water and Wine

Some days are like water,
cold, clear, and swift, cutting
a path from trickle to cataract
with the uncompromising consistency
of a child's learning rhyme.

But today was like wine,
dark and mysterious, redolent
of fruit and flowers long since gone to dust,
a slow meander from bottle to goblet to lips;
a smoky memory and a passing glance,
a blur of motion just there,
just out of sight.