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Advent, the Fourteenth Day: Balvenie 12 Year Old Single Barrel First Fill


Utinam sustineretis modicum insipientiae meae…

St. Lucy’s Day

What gives to us this day that’s bred from margins
Of calendar’s end? The clocks diminish:
Their hands are wickless lamps of witless virgins.
December’s weathers grip the land and push
The fog and rain across a cold horizon.
Yet embers resurrect and sparks emblazon
This fourteenth day of Advent. Darkness reigns
A little while, sure, but our glass contains
A castle’s local genius. Called Balvenie,
It builds its case and pours a million suns,
This sainted maiden’s day. Composed of moons
A dozen twelve, this canticle of honey
Candescence hints at hope – its glint reflects
The light that man has sought since “Fiat lux!”

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