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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.

3 thoughts on “<strong>Tish Davis</strong>, The Red Vineyard”

  1. 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.

    Reply

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