My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: grapes

Stanislaus County

20130721-231436.jpg

I remember while
still a child,
we’d head east
over
Pacheco Pass.

On a another
California
road trip.

The slumber
of summer felt
in the warm
dry air.

Me, in the backseat
with my sisters
staring out
the window
of my fathers car.

sights of the
yellow sunburnt hills.
then the deep
blue of
San Luis
Reservoir,

these,
were forever
imprinted in
the recess of
my mind.

Finally, we’d
hit the valley,

my father
would say,
“Were in
Stanislaus
county.”

In the back seat
my sisters and I’d
giggle as we
mispronounced
Stanislaus.

Instead
we’d say,
“Santa Claus,
Yeah!”

With the
windows down,
the hot musky
smell of grapes and
cherry orchards,

would cause us
to desire the
luscious fruits
of California’s,
Garden of Eden.

“Can we stop
at a fruit stand
dad?”

“We want to
have something
sweet…”

Now, that I’m a dad,
It’s my kids that
are giggling
in the back seat.

Stanislaus County
the memorable,
yet at times
mis-pronounceable name,
is where we live.

Kerouac In The Valley

20130419-174044.jpg

Kerouac in
San Joaquin
valley strove-
picking cotton
he temporarily
stayed.

Who would have known
the fields so ripe-
Modesto,
Madera and Fresno-
smell, so
delightful
At night.

If you’ve ever
been here-
The Delta air
fragrantly moves
through
The pregnant fertile
vines…

Sun and heir
People stare
But ultimately
don’t care
what to
Think…

Words and visions-
bright life flares.
Calling it a day,
brings on the
the blissful night..
lovingly-
in dimly lit
Passionately
heated
rooms.

Dew springs
Painted flowers-
field of wet backs.
Occasionally a
lily so bright!

I’ll never see you again
Now, today, tomorrow
and
always…

But, your words
Jack,
of your visit here-
will forever
affectionally remain.

The Voice Of The Migrant

20130402-230713.jpg

During the heat of the day,
I’m bent over with no shade.
My hands are dry and hot.
Picking grapes, I’m so distraught.

I feel I’m dying.

By the end of the day I don’t
have enough to buy a meal.
There’s not a lot that I got
out of this awful deal.

I’m not lying.

I came to get ahead
I ended up here instead.
Working the vines
for someone else’s wine.

The rich are always buying.

I need to make it through
these blazing summer days.
My family will be a wreak,
if I don’t bring home a paycheck.

My heart is troubled and sighing.