Our restless feet tread the grapes
of our everyday endeavours
and the wine seeps
into the yielding soil.

It colours, destroys or solidifies
the grit of our traditions.
Skirting the bed-rock flints
of our survival, it seeks pockets
of rich loam in which to age.

Lidded with spreading pavements
and battened with high-rise
developments, it marbles,
patterning the present for future eyes
in another Ephesus.

© Marion Sharville

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