A Beer poem by Dyfed Lloyd Evans
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A Beer
Ring-pull moents,
When hissing gas escapes an opened can
Forcing anticipation on
Expectant, salivating, tongue.
Can’t you see the fresh-poured beer
Tumbling as its layered in a glass
Savouring anticipation
Letting the head form
Before, with warm caress
You kiss the glass
To taste the bitter, numbing, chill
The sweet release
Of condensation
Flowing down the icy glass
Of this cold beer.
The weekend’s first.
When hissing gas escapes an opened can
Forcing anticipation on
Expectant, salivating, tongue.
Can’t you see the fresh-poured beer
Tumbling as its layered in a glass
Savouring anticipation
Letting the head form
Before, with warm caress
You kiss the glass
To taste the bitter, numbing, chill
The sweet release
Of condensation
Flowing down the icy glass
Of this cold beer.
The weekend’s first.
Each poem has its inception somewhere and this one comes from watching a glass of stout being poured. It was written originally some six years ago but came to mind again when I was composing the various recipes for the beer and brewing recipe section of this site. So I present the experience anew.
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