Vineyard of the Sun

Reflections on ripening grapes and enriching life and spirit

Mar 01, 2025

My husband and I once visited a small vineyard hidden amongst the hills of Napa Valley.
The meticulous arrangement of the sun-drenched grapevines filled me with wonder as I walked among them. They planted each row of grapes to ensure maximum sunlight exposure all day long. Sturdy trellises and well-spaced vines ensured each fruit cluster received adequate attention, preventing overcrowding. Careful cultivation improved grape quality and created a beautiful vineyard where each vine flourished, showcasing expert vineyard management.
I have visited other vineyards, including ones in Tuscany, but this one stuck with me and inspired this poem.

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A woman walks among her vines,  
in the golden light of dawn;
her hands, weathered yet gentle,  
trace the delicate tendrils  
that climb and twist toward the sky.  
She knows each row by heart,  
each leaf's story, each grape's
promise of the season’s labor.

The sun, her silent companion,  
rises with an effortless grace,  
casting a warm embrace over the vineyard.  

It spills 
            like honey over the ripening fruit,  

as if it has nothing else to do  

            but nurture this small corner of the earth,  

where life unfurls in vibrant greens and purples.

Here, among the rows,  
the world narrows to the simple act  
of tending to the grapes,  
coaxing sweetness from the soil.  
She bends low, examining clusters,  
sunlight filtering through the leaves,  
dancing like laughter across her face,  
illuminating her dreams stitched  
into the fabric of each vine.

With each passing day,  
she communes with the sun,  
a rhythm of give and take,  
the universe swirling beyond her gaze.  

Yet in this sacred space,  

            there is a stillness, a singular focus;

where planets may spin in their celestial arcs,  

            here, it is the fruit that matters.

She recalls the taste of summer,  
the burst of juice on her tongue,  
the laughter shared under the oak’s shade,  
the way the sun feels,  
not just on her skin, but in her spirit,  
as if it ripens not just grapes,  
but the very essence of her being.

And when twilight descends,  
painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold,  
she stands still, gazing at the horizon,  
her vineyard a scene staged with care.  

In this small expanse,  
where sun and vines converge,  
she finds her place,  
connected, closely, with the rhythms of nature,  
a part of the dance that ripens not just fruit,  
but a life rooted deep in the soil,  
bathed in the light of a generous sun.

Author’s Note

My award-winning book of poetry and prose, The Edges, is available in digital and paperback formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Google Play, IngramSpark, and Kobo.

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