Ah! Gracious elixir, good ally gin,
come sit beside me while I rest herein
from chaos and confusion that have been
imposed on me to my chagrin.
Your fragrance alone is an embrace,
of the redolent type (just in case
you’re not aware of your eminent grace
in providing solace from the human race.)
Oh blessed remedy from daytime slight,
with your angelica root you quite delight
and abandon my recent spirit’s blight:
help turn me mellow and pleasingly polite.
Oh divine coriander you do inspire
my better behavior when worldly ire
crushes all hope that we will acquire
once more principles we can admire.
Hurrah to your translucent skill to intox
with your anise flavor that smugly mocks
my penchant to tipsily crack each paradox
with the harebrained reasoning of Goldilocks.
Amen to you sweet silver gin
with crisp berries juniper I can begin
to mull how your taste spurs me to grin,
oh, just a second—did I mean sin?
Formerly of New York City and South Florida, Brittingham is currently a resident of Southwestern Michigan, as well as a writer who has published essays in the Hartford Courant; short stories in Florida Literary Foundation’s hardcover anthology, Paradise; with the University of Georgia Center for Continuing Education; in the 1996 Florida First Coast Writers’ Festival and in Britain’s World Wide Writers.