NaPoeWriMo, Day 3 and 4

A little bit of catch up, from the lag of the weekend:

Napa People


People always tell you that it starts with the grape,
but I don't agree. I think
it always starts with the people
and their desire to be the tillers of the soil
without worrying about the small things like practicality:
everyone knows that farming without the headaches
of corn subsidies and supplier demands
is far more romantic.
They dream of growing the kinds of grape they want
and damn them all if they can't appreciate the position
that makes them unique: the hillside that never gets enough sun,
the soil that can almost hold enough water,
the smoke that always blows in from the fires.
They dream of seeing their vines, after enduring
the months of hardship, producing modest, robust fruit,
the kind that punches you in the face with four legs,
opens itself willingly with two,
and settles in with all of his friends at three.
They dream of standing in the sun that fades over the mountains,
holding a bunch of them in the dying light,
and telling them, "It all starts with you, my little survivors."
And then their hearts warm with kinship,
because they, too, know what its like
to have lived through something terrible
just to make it through, not much to look at,
but bursting with vigor.

**********************

Block

It all started when those blocks fell
and I laughed because the purple and pink G
meant something entirely different,
but couldn't for the life of me tell you why it was so funny.
So I went on trying to explain all through the afternoon
in the car, and the waiting room, in the school lobby and at the kitchen table
until finally you shook your head and said "I just don't understand you"
It was the first time you kissed me without really meaning it
and from that day on my desire to speak clearly
blossomed into a full-fledged need
I paid attention to the words I used, and more importantly
to the effect they had, and in a year's time
I had a full arsenal
words for every occasion, mood, color and flavor
I knew what word would best compliment your tuna casserole
or what you looked for in a sincere apology
what would make you smile and nod, and yes,
what would shock you, make you afraid,
make you think that a stranger had been sleeping across the hall from you
all this time
but I still cannot tell you why I laugh when I come across a favorite word
masked in a font that I particularly like,
or why it means something different from what the dictionary tells you
so, for now, you will have to be content with my admittedly inadequate
nothing,
though, just for you, I am working on my best
inflections