pour as the flowing
even as a knowing
each drop divine
from fantastic vines
the soaked the summer sun
as rays that played
for days and days
until the ripe bursting grape
was tweaked betwixt fingers
that gently tugged
and with a uh
the grape was free in a descent
to land into the woven basket
amongst so many kin
not a one but so many
a cascade of fruit
timely tamed found in wild
then there was the same
the wild in a oaken vat
tromped by toes and heels
or ankles smash
a piston a whirling gig
up and down the grape is trod
and red and deep and red complete
the juice is managed out
the vat is full
the feet must rest
there are more steps before the fact
that the grape is aged
and laid to sleep
in a glass bottle then
until with a pop and oh
it slips into a a crystal glass

good job