wine theology; bottled poetry-a foretaste of consummation

Dry heat of the arid vineyard, trellises of wooden green and leaves of paper cells, clusters of fruit dark as plums, a perfect clump of must. Months of watering and weeding and the grapes are firm with skins stretched tight, primed to be crushed; matured grapes frosted with perfect age and sunburned to consummate tinge. Peels split and cracked, the flesh of the fruit is pulp—fermenting juice. Glass jade thick and cork half stained, a richly printed label, golden cursive letters scrawl around the bottle, the darkness sloshes against the sides. Fragile stemware next to a corkscrew, cheese and crackers on the board. Tended, harvested, fermented, on the table ready to drink; wine is a picture of the Christian life, rich in symbology and a tangible reminder of Christ’s suffering and the glorious conquering of death and the bringing of the new creation to life.

this is, by the way, part of my rhetoric paper that I'm turning in tomorrow afternoon