Where Are You?

We have already tried different tunes, but the chorus always returns— five, like iron bars, and the notes along their track. Where are you, Dionysus? We have already tasted many flavors of wine, but all of them toward their peak. Grape and vintage year stamped upon the cork, a sealed bottle, impermeable to oxygen. Where are you, Dionysus? We have already kissed our love beneath the wedding canopy, with blessings, and built our home with a fence around the yard. Where are you, Dionysus? I have already raised daughters toward their futures, to tunes, tastes, and kisses. Under my watchful eyes, my lips whisper: be careful— the fence, the bottle, the chorus I shall ask for. But between the lines I ask: Where are you, Dionysus? Apollo is already here.