Poetry About Beer Hops

The hop vines climb their tall wires. Papery cones gather under broad leaves. A bitter green scent clings to the hands. Workers lower each woven wall at dusk. Months later, a glass will hold this field. Even bitterness can be shaped into balance.

The visible thing is only an entrance. Papery cones gather under broad leaves. Behind it waits a more difficult truth. Workers lower each woven wall at dusk. Silence gives the question room to deepen. Even bitterness can be shaped into balance.

The hop vines climb their tall wires. Time moves, but the image does not leave. A bitter green scent clings to the hands. It returns us to climbing vines, bitter fragrance, harvest, brewing craft, and the balance hidden inside flavor. Months later, a glass will hold this field. The day continues with a more attentive heart.