What honors shall I bestow upon thee,
my gleeful day,
my blessed Friday?
'tis an evening,
'tis your feast.
I sip the red and gulp the scene
and the wine just seeps
into what is seen.
I then
in a trance
gently swaying with the trees,
dancing in a crimson breeze,
'tis but a splendor,
a jewel among ruby eves!