By Tom Baideme
September 2010
I can’t believe the weather change
From sweating in the 80s
In need of tees and shorts
To sporting hat and coat
And you can tell it’s harvest time
‘Cause it always seems the rain begins
Every time the grapes get ripe
And you have to get them off the vine
Already see the trucks with tote
Catch the smell of grapes as they go by
Filled with a variety of early vines
Soon to fill with Concord bulk
Traveling to the plant of choice
To weigh and test the contents there
Paid by just how sweet it is
Adds up with every box and ton
They say it’s not a vintage crop
Though the weather has been superb
Made for better than average tons
Though some have not seen better years
So I’ll end on this writ on harvest
Of the changes in the waning light
As the days of harvest begin
And the harvesters that work all night
