ODE TO THE PORT WINE CHEESE BALL


You are the most daring of all dairies,
Roundly gowned in a nutty flamboyance,
yet no less sophisticated to your fans,
While ignorant bands of critics label you gaudy,
a veritable "Liber-a-Cheese" perhaps.

I happily hark to the generous hearts of my Holiday hosts,
Who allowed themselves to be upstaged by your cameo,
A thing most who know them would perceive as an impossible task,
considering the Hostess and her eyes like twin planets
and the Host with his prism of charismas.

But back to you, fine cheese.
You were never intimidated by these,
Instead you weaved your swirls of reds and golds in a polite duet
with our Host's beard
Which moved and reflected light as he spoke to me of pistols and rifles.
The soothing balm of your flavor played an intricate tune on my
tongue that night,
When I found myself accepting an invitation to the firing range.
Maybe it was because i couldn't help but envision you as our target,
the bulls-eye and centerpiece you inevitably are...
If only our ammunition could be an assortment of pecans and walnuts
that we could propel like astronauts to the surface of your atmosphere.

I've been informed quite often
that the Port Wine that dwells in you
is not enough for drunkeness no matter how much I indulge in you,
But I am intoxicated nonetheless.