THE BOTTLE

Before my time

an empty bottle cast

where there was no road,

pink with a lifetime

of blistering sunlight

and I wonder who

a horseback threw it

now in the short grass—

legends in these hills,

weathered men,

drinkers all

coping with the times—

with bankers and buyers

betting on the market

and little chance of rain.

Or what couple when

lay naked then

in wildflower sunshine.

Not much has changed

except for the price

of a cheap bottle of wine.