Memories Marked
On a checked flag of green and white
ia a record of together times.
Wine stains tell of days of joy.
Never washed,
no memories erased.
A banner waved at
wild mustard and sun kissed grapes
and blended with the gold of fall
and green of spring.
A flag flown in sunshine and shade,
in parks and on beaches
and by the grey white weathered Sonoma barns.
It has covered tables of carved initials
and wobbly legs.
Each is marked as ours.
Our settings are simple.
Paper napkins selected,
calendars telling of the season.
Trophy glasses from other days,
a tool to pull the cork,
and an old knife
to cut the bread and cheese.
Our menu varied
by chance and opportunity.
The buying ritual
always bread, cheese and salami
to temper the red wine.
And from the old basket comes the rest.
A foil wrapped tidbit
and a bunch of grapes.
Cookies rescued from the children,
a saved dessert or
a just picked persimmon.
A horseradish bottle vase of roses.
The tape deck serenades.
Ours is a proud flag.
It flies over the conquest of our hearts.
I have no menu
for my final meal
save to eat it on
our green and white
checkered memory slate.