Saint George and the Dragon 
(Label for Sangiovese 2019, Di Majo Norante)

The little parapet in the background
provided a vantage for George to watch
how the dragon approached the walled city,
swooping low to the ground with legs tucked in,
thus able to evade the king’s archers. 

A squire out of sight prepared his white steed,
its ivory mane adorned with tassels, 
and through the open portcullis he rode,
his halo brightening with each hoofbeat:
a copper disc embossed on deep blue sky. 

The princess elected for sacrifice,
whose life he seeks to protect, waits behind 
in an orange garment, barely visible,
as if a flame licking the palace gate –
the peasants’ unrest which threatens to flare. 

Now large in center scene, he hoists his lance
to spear the serpent in its sharp-toothed maw. 
The horse straddles the beast to prevent flight.
Prostrate, it succumbs to being vanquished, 
though how its outspread wings do gleam in sun.

How its back arches beneath the stallion.
How its claws rake red clay from the stained earth.
How the ripe, black olive of its pupil
lolls backward in its mandorla-shaped eye 
as it expires from the saint’s forceful strike.

Already sheep return to the meadow. 
Already the orchard yields luscious figs. 
Already courtiers resume gossip  
and villagers take up once more their work
and swollen grapes pour down from ample vines.