The Grape Harvest

Reminiscing

Strolling on a lazy afternoon

I passed the local grape-crushing site

My senses felt the smell as an invite

I couldn’t resist the call and went inside

 

Eager to see familiar sights

I looked all over, but I saw none

The vats, the press, grape skins littering the paths,

They were all gone

 

Walking around devoid of any intent

Still in a daze, on rustic floor made of cement

I heard new machines crushing grapes

Watched juice flowing through new plastic pipes

 

I fled that place that memories revived

But like grapes had left them crushed and dry

I wandered for a while, sat on a bench,

My mind flashed photos of a life gone by

As I looked down the sloping, terraced land

Leading to the river bed around the bend

 

I saw the images of long-skirted maids

Cutting grape bunches from the vines

Filling baskets made of willow twigs

Donkeys trudging through old narrow trails

Laden with grapes to become new wine

A boy was leading them holding the reins

I saw my face when I was barely nine

 

I saw grapes unloaded into vats

Stained by time and by human wear

Barefoot men and children hand in hand

Dancing on a mound of oozing grapes

Naked, sweating torsos turning a press

Pushing a wooden pole, showing prowess

 

Some men filled goatskins with sweet juice

Others loaded goatskins on their back

Women walked as dancing ballerinas

Carrying loaded pots on their bare heads

 

Nostrils brought to mind the pungent smell

Never forgotten and preserved well

Of the grape skins discarded by the side

Forming a hill on which kids would slide

My ears were quick to join the recollection

Remembering the tunes of ancient lore

That female pickers sang as an encore

 

Awakened by a car that just drove by

I turned around, for home I made my way

This time I chose a trail where few would pass

In ancient times was trod by mule and a*s

 

I saw abandoned shacks still standing tall

Fields of bamboo by thorny scrub embraced

Where green had reigned supreme

An old fig tree extended its long arms

Offering its ripe fruit as an invite

I took a fig and ate all in one bite