…sip again…. More herbal and green than the last sip, maybe even a little evidenced oxygen.  Not so much attached to its character as I was with the first sip, and certainly not while tasting last night.  Wine explains itself as it wants to, which is beautiful, but as a writer of wine I have to react honestly.  With trenchant and poetic transparency.  So, I’m tempted to pour the rest out.  Should I?  Or should I finish what I’ve started, the bottle… study the flaw and how the character has changed and what I as a writer of wine should do with a bottle that I don’t anymore delight in, am seduced by?   Dilemma, I sip and hope something else is said but it’s clear the wine doesn’t want me analyzing it, and certainly not writing about its flaws.  So I look around the room, not hearing that fly any longer, only the kids outside playing like angry chimps that somehow escaped their exhibit.  The suggestions from what I sip change their shape without notice… now the cherry stage-takes more exemplary and demonstrative…