Tish Davis
The Red Vineyard
1.
this winter storm how angry these power lines spitting their orange sparks!
no moon only the chill. . . the thwack of ax uneven cuts crippling another tree
My husband manually opens the garage door. My fingers, still refusing to straighten after miles of gripping the wheel while trying to steer on ice.
a tinny voice in the recorded prediction 48 hours. . . that worker doing his job this hungry me
A tiny flame. . .
in the dark my husband a fuel canister with his small camp stove an offer of tea
2.
one miniature flashlight on the other side of plus. . . what's left in the little battery
In our great room, under the vaulted ceiling, I pile blankets on our favorite overstuffed recliners.
Between two white built-in, art-filled bookshelves, a reprint of Van Gogh’s The Red Vineyard hangs above the cabinetry reserved for the tv.
fwoosh . . . one strike lights a disfigured candle.
3.
Talk of a cold supper while snuggled in chairs, sipping tea . . .
The Red Vineyard—yellow sky, vineyards vivid red. Sunset rhythms only laborers know. Faceless silhouettes, workers still bending their backs, unceremoniously stretching as they pivot.
We are mesmerized by the motion.
Never once do the workers gaze at that sunlit river shading the vine leaves red always focused on their side of a black diagonal.
Never once do they break to seek out these old and tired faces. It’s as if they know that neither our house nor the one in the painting’s distant middle will ever belong to them .
When the flame drops below the candle’s wax, the vineyard disappears.
the vine pickers backs bent all day in Van Gogh's vivid reds. . . is what's left of that golden flame guiding them home?
About the Author
Tish Davis lives in Northern Ohio. Her tanka and related forms have appeared in numerous online and print publications. When she isn’t busy with work and grandchildren she enjoys exploring the local parks with her husband and three dogs.
A great painting & a fine piece of writing. Felicitations to Tish Davis!
sent from Provence where the sight of autumnal vineyards is still to be enjoyed – with less helpers perhaps – yet whole clans of people still do the work of grape gathering (while some do this job with machines).
Then wine tasting is another aspect of autumn’s generosity.
Giselle,
Thank you. My husband and I still talk about that incredible evening.
Tish
Wow I thoroughly enjoyed the piece. I loved how the tanka took the prose forward. Amazing and inspiring.