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This is a rare sadness,

Like the best, dryest wine.

It only comes once a season,

When the vineyards bear their grapes 

As it happens

I sip it at mealtimes 

Or on the veranda with friends

Or often alone, in the study.

It is of a vintage most sweet,

A California red

From the happiest time of my life

And though bitter as vinegar

I happily drink it up

For the sweet summer notes

That linger on my tongue