Fermentation

In case the term is unfamiliar,
It turns sugar into alcohol.

I read that men were making wine
Eight thousand years ago… or more.
They couldn't say, "This fish needs white"
And trot down to the local store.
They couldn't chill a bottleful
For serving from a pail of ice,
Nor could they pop a shapely cork
For drama's sake at any price.
Instead they brewed their vintage fresh
In pots baked from the local clay
Because their wineskins often popped.
Ceramics were a better way.

I wonder if they ever thought
About the way those wineskins popped?
At some point, someone must have passed
Some gas – and, for a moment, stopped
In shock as they drew parallels
Between their bellies and those skins!
Would drinking that fermented wine
Leave them exploded, mere has-beens?
If so, like gas, the thought soon passed
For fermentation gained in fame.
Since we survived, I guess they learned
To drink some distance from a flame!

Hmmm… When by candlelight we're noshing
We put our wine on ice. Precaution?