The Miracle of the Grapes
The children are flying. It’s a long steep road to the cathedral and they might have
been late. Soon the cemetery will pass beneath them. Oxen on the road will shake their
great necks as the children pass. The lines in father’s face lean to the left. His eyebrows
curl wildly and point to the sky.
A donkey loaded with baskets tethers father to the earth. It’s been a long time since
he was a child, but he will be one again soon. Outside the cathedral sleep a straw hat and
a tuba, abandoned. To leave them like this means something else might come along.
And yoked to the road come two sad uncles, a pig savaged between them on a pole.
Now the vineyard begins rising to meet the children. The rest of the earth comes
with it. The grapes are no longer attached to the hosts, their skin removed to make them
speak sweetly. A great kindness appears to inhabit father’s elderly clothing. We have
been given one more day. I count all the way to clouds before I lose track. It’s what father
wants them to do for him that speaks.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.