We as lovers would first educate ourselves. If you want to take a class here and there, or get some certification, or whatever, that’s fine. But first, we should educate ourselves. Go get books, read them with measured embrace, take notes.. always be a student, and your own professor. Dive into it not even head-first, but all-you-first. Wine has always spoken to me with humility and curiosity, urging me to be more like It. If you love something, someone, and wine is more a ‘someone’ than a ‘something’, then you learn. But it’s not class. It’s life. IT’s words and feelings, reactions realities. Tonight’s wine again made me a lover.. interpreter or so I hope— lost in my dazzle, rouse, rabble— conflict but not so much afflicted. I’m writing when all I want to do is sleep, and I have tonight’s yours to thank or that. Heater coming on, rain maybe outside, but the bottle continues to me speak in verse I’ve never before heard. Teaching me in a full-time sense, nothing adjunct’d. Keep writing, I tell myself. I’ve been most purposefully taught something tonight— how wine can yell a different verse, show a different scene and cry with loving absorption.