A Crystal Wine Glass


“A Crystal Wine Glass” by James Matthew Wilson

The hour has come, the table stills,

And, as the conversations cease,

Someone’s last hurried whisper fills

The air with thoughts about a niece

And her pursuit of dangerous thrills.

A cheek turns rose, and then, in peace,

The host, stood at the table’s end,

Shares those few words his wit has penned.

But, as his thoughts rise on the air,

Sonorous, decent, sound but dull,

Eyes lower and fix their sullen care

On crystal glasses halfway full

Whose cut intricacies now flare

Like beacons in the evening’s lull,

To lure the mind of every guest

Toward brilliancy’s ecstatic rest.

How typical of us to find

Riches in boredom. How a thing

To which our selves had just been blind

Will fascinate and suddenly bring

Joy that the world is so designed.

The gleaming of the roadside spring,

The beetle in a brick wall’s shade,

Such signs seem as if for us made.

And so the schoolboy’s fingers trace

The whorls within the weathered pew;

A girl’s hand fiddles with a case

To clasp then open it anew;

And diners settled in their place

Find in the crystal’s hue on hue

A resonance much like a rhyme

To draw the hour out of time.

Click here to read the entire 2024 Meliora publication, including James Matthew Wilson’s poem “A Crystal Wine Glass.” Click here to purchase a print copy of Meliora.

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