Merroir

If I wrote “merroir”,

dear reader, would

you look it up or pass

over the brine and

move on to the next 

line, searching amid

the sand and kelp for

hints and suggestions.

Or, what about “terroir”?

Would the harshness of

the “t” stand against the

“m” and push you to

grab the OED, rifling for

meaning across onion skin

pages of wisdom and time.

For either, let me just say

this, that the place of a 

thing is always considered

and discovered in the thing

itself.  It should never be

a surprise.  But, can the 

nuanced notes and finishes

be deciphered to reveal

meaning and context,

influence and radiance of

just where the place has

lovingly rubbed itself off?

Tell me, dear reader, where do

you look for the meaning of a 

thing; where do you uncover place?