Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Through The Doorway Unto A Canvas

The shop rattled. Antique bottles broke.
Oil and vinegar spilled
staining the stone pavement.
A painting of saplings
that caught the eye of the crow.
He landed keeping
his large wings open, umbrella'd
 as if to protect
this sudden print
crafted by the quake.
He clenched an olive pit
in his beak 
and dropped it at the point
where a sprig should leaf
and flower, reveal the bead work
of rain, the white  luster
of a moth. Where a  woman's hands
on a hillside terrace
tied string around a vineyard branch.
A tree she  had planted  to praise
her husband's return from the dead --
its tasting room
of mold  and shuttered light.
Recently, with the occurrence of the earthquake in The Napa Valley, I was looking at various pictures of destruction done to cafes, shops, houses in the town and the  lay-out of  vineyards in the distance. What caught my attention was a photo of an olive oil and vinegar tasting shop/room that had suffered tremors from the quake. Bottles of precious oil and vinegar broke while the contents spilled out of the doorway onto the sidewalk. They stained the pavement with streaks that resembled saplings on a van Gogh or even Monet canvas. It was an entrance into sudden art crafted by the event. It left an impression, a design that tempted the mind to envision different scenes and to invite strange or familiar possibilities, memories. I thought of a crow landing there with an olive stone in its mouth, a guide to what this all could symbolize, how this spontaneous print could be a marker of hope, a link to somewhere else and someone else who had planted a vineyard tree in gratitude, in praise of her husband's return from dark depression. A splattering on the pavement that becomes a metaphorical gateway to new beginnings and growth.


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