"At the passing away of the harvest red it is the night that turns the grapes into wine. The red moon and and its grapes of stars watch us,-at the dreamer time-repeating the ancient miracle. Reds are the hands, our land, our passion, red it is the night that turns the grape into wine." (Poem on label)
"At the passing away of the harvest red it is the night that turns the grapes into wine. The red moon and and its grapes of stars watch us,-at the dreamer time-repeating the ancient miracle. Reds are the hands, our land, our passion, red it is the night that turns the grape into wine." (Poem on label)
Nov 11th, 2016