The Vinedresser’s Gap
Speeding between acres of vineyard,
Escher’s geometric inspirations
Seem more flat than before.
Row beyond row flicker–
A motion picture of vanishing points
As the lines of vines reveal,
Grown from their long turned furrows
Of soil once ploughed into mounds,
Where the vinedeesser trods between.
The gap between row after row,
Each so seriously straight,
Gives glimpses of the manor house at the end
In frames at a rate of some miles per hour.
The order arranged here, grown so carefully
to yield year after year,
Is strikingly reminiscent but a single vine
Grown up to be dressed against a stake,
With branches hanging, outstretched–
The the fruit of all labor, that ancient Shuddering consequence, cruciform and bearing
The harvest, soon poured out
For Cana’s wedding
To hold together